Humbled
by LadyVaderWrites
Summary: Draco & Harry are hit by a spell gone wrong. N/B This  along with Matinee is the first thing I ever wrote, it's WiP  only 1 chapter to go  and written preOotP but set in 7th Year. Features Vengeful Neville, Unconscious Ron & OOC Crazy FanGurl Hermione ;P
1. Humbled Part 1

Humbled: Part 1

It started out as simplicity itself. Simple plan, simple action, simple motive. The problems that followed, however, were entirely inevitable, a fact not unknown to the plan's originator, Neville Longbottom. Things rarely went as he planned them, not once in his six long years at Hogwarts had they helped him and ten times out of ten they backfired on him, yet he couldn't relinquish the thought that popped, unbidden, into his head. Revenge. A nasty word for an often nasty deed, a notion that was mainly and most correctly associated with the actions of 'You Know Who'. Revenge drove He Who Shall Not Be Named to pursue Harry, and Neville did not want to be like him in any way, shape or form.

Yet still the idea lingered. It was risky, true, but perhaps he needn't follow through with the action itself? Perhaps he could just plan his revenge and be secure in the knowledge that he could, should he need to. But then when the plan was made and the simplicity of it all blossomed into sheer unadulterated pleasure at the realisation that the deed was actually within his grasp, what harm could it do to take things just one step further? So, he mixed the potion, carefully following each strict parameter and direction, delighting as it progressed in just the way that it should. So, he had the potion. Big deal, it wasn't as if he was actually going to use it, he just made it to prove he could. And had... No sense in wasting a perfectly good potion and when you thought about it really, really hard, there would actually be no problem with learning the words that would act with the potion to amplify its affects. He wasn't going to use it, he just wanted to make it, learn how to use it and transport it everywhere with him on the off chance that it might come in handy and need to be plucked from the hidden vial about his wrist at exactly the right time and place. It was nothing more than a safety precaution, an ace literally up his sleeve should he happen to require one. It followed, unfortunately, that Neville saw fit to require his ace that very night...

***************

Dinner was almost finished, the remaining students happily exalting in their tightly filled stomachs as the rest of Hogwarts student body struggled to convince themselves it was time to return to homework and other such activities. Neville sat, his plate mostly untouched as he waited, anxiously anticipating any action that could set a spark to the fuse of his master plan. He did not have to wait too long before the first stirrings of unease crept along the tables, kindling a light in Neville's eyes. Malfoy was telling jokes, bad jokes at that and everyone knew he'd get around to his Muggle and Mudblood based jokes soon. It was only a matter of time and Neville could barely hold back from rubbing his hands together in glee.

"How about this one, There are two Mudblood's walking along and one turns to the other and says,"

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?"

Draco Malfoy turned his exquisitely groomed head to sneer across at the flushed Gryffindor glaring at him at the next table. "What's the matter, Weasel?" he purred mock courteously, "Have you heard this one before?"

Ron turned an even deeper shade of red, glancing sideways at quietly pale Hermione and hissed between clenched teeth at the smirking Slytherin, "Look, everyone knows you're not fucking funny, Malfoy, seems it's only you who hasn't quite grasped the concept, so like I said why don't you just shut the fuck up and let us all finish our meals in peace."

A perfect eyebrow quirked and inwardly Draco allowed himself a wide, evil grin. There was nothing quite like pissing off the Weasel to help settle one's stomach after a large meal.

As he rattled off his standard superior responses, he failed to see the now highly noticeable twitching from another Gryffindor. Neville could barely contain himself. The time was nearly upon him and Malfoy didn't even know it.

By now both men's voices had risen to fill the slowly emptying room, with the staff beginning to cast warning glances in their direction, but neither paid them any heed. Draco had actually managed to touch a nerve, something about the awful quality of the weasel's jumper, he was fairly sure his mother made it for him and things were speeding downhill from there. Ron was throwing every single mistake Malfoy had ever made Quidditch-wise into the fight, quoting his many defeats at the hands of Harry Potter, while that young quietly reassured a frazzled Hermione, flinching as he heard his name.

Hermione shook her head slightly, she loved that Ron would always rush to protect her name and honour with such fervour, but it always left her a little queasy. She could feel Harry tensing beside her, preparing himself to spin and help face down the enemy. She heard him sigh softly. He had sat with his back to the Slytherin table because he despised confrontations just as this, but he could not let Ron fight Malfoy alone.

Neville twitched and quivered, drawing the vial from within his sleeve. Malfoy was so close to overstepping the line now that he could feel it. Soon now, very soon.

Ron glanced down as he saw Harry grip the table with his hands, as if preparing to push away and turn to face Malfoy also. Ron frowned, considering where both his friend and nemesis had been sat. If Harry stood now he would have to fight Malfoy literally face to face, something he knew Harry would hate.

Malfoy was simply too good at this to miss the hesitation in Weasel's diatribe as he glanced at what seemed to be a now almost active Potter. "Oh goody," he thought with another inward smile, "Things are always so much more fun when the boy wonder gets involved."

"Oh dear," he pouted at Ron, "Does the Weasel not want Potter to play? Don't worry, I understand completely... you've been trying to slip the Mudblood one for quite some time now, haven't you, Ronny? Must be a real pain to have the 'freak who lived' hanging around all the time, habitually outdoing you and uhm... distracting her from your ahem... mediocre charms?"

It was quite simply the best insult he'd dealt Ron yet. Ron quivered, temper building up in him and mixing with his mortification at having his feelings for Hermione announced thus rudely and the gap between his anger and any action that would follow left just enough time for a few somewhat potentially catastrophic events to occur.

Neville leapt from his seat and cast the small vial at Malfoy's feet where it shattered. Harry leapt from his seat, spun and neatly punched Malfoy in the face. Malfoy reeling, grabbed Harry by his robes and drew back to return the blow. Light blue smoke rose from the vial and began twisting between the legs of the two brawling young men. Harry dodged Malfoy's first blow, doubled up as the second caught him in the stomach and for a brief moment was forced into full contact with Malfoy's body as both pain and an angry Slytherin drew him close.

Neville's voice rang out, clear as a bell in the confusion, "Ignomino Totallus!" He pointed, wand hand shaking as he noted Harry still clasped in a vicious embrace too close to his target, but alas, it was too late. The blue smoke rose swiftly, surrounding the 17-year-old wizards before dissipating with a violent flash of blue light, leaving the boys separated in its wake.

Everyone at the staff table had shot to their feet, shuffling speedily to reach the victims of Neville's frequently incorrect spells, who now stood barely a metre apart, arms hanging loosely at their sides.

Blood rushed through Draco's body and he felt himself swaying with the force of his own heartbeat, so weak he was almost unable to keep his eyes open. Yet he did not fall down and neither could he stop looking at Potter. Potter. He cast his eyes slowly up and down the length of his opponent's body, noting the breadth of shoulder, length of leg, the very deep green of Potter's eyes and his mouth, oh gods, his mouth.

Hermione gasped, a ringside observer to the incident unfolding before her eyes. Draco had not only just checked Harry out, but there was a heat within the now heavy lidded gaze that suggested more than a mild interest. She turned to look at Harry and nearly fell off her chair.

Harry was staring back at Malfoy with all the fixedness and strength that usually accompanied his glares of hatred, but this look was so far from hatred that Hermione actually blushed. He'd tipped his head down slightly, gazing at Malfoy from beneath lowered lids and brow, his breath coming in slow deep gasps and she could hear rather than see that he was shaking slightly. She watched speechless as his eyes followed the lines of Draco's body from long lean limbs to the burning bright gaze, filled with triumph and what was that? Desire?

Harry's head came up in a smooth, determined motion, tilting his head slightly, meeting Malfoy's eyes before wetting his lower lip with his tongue tip. A loud groan sounded and Hermione blushed harder still before realising that it was Malfoy who had made the sound, before quivering as she watched the surprising actions that followed.

In an explosion of movement Malfoy shot forward, binding Harry to him in a rough embrace as their mouths met and held with a resounding moan of mutual pleasure as the entire school caught its breath.

The teachers, Dumbledore included, ground to a halt in their headlong rush from their end of the Great Hall, all slowing to stand behind Ron, whose face was now whiter than Moaning Myrtle's. "Gggguhh?" he murmured faintly.

"Oh my," Professor McGonagall exclaimed as Draco wrapped one arm about Harry's shoulders to hold him close, the other being somewhat more loosely clasped about his waist so that he might tightly grasp Harry's firm backside. Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows, waiting for the fall-out and Snape's mouth fell neatly open as he watched Harry twist the hand that didn't rest on Draco's ass through his favourite students perfectly ordered locks, twisting to tilt his head so that their tongues might have better access.

"Ggggguuuuhhhh?" Ron mumbled, sitting down heavily.

Neville passed out.

Hermione clenched her hands in her lap and mentally took back every bad thing she'd said about Millicent Bulstrode. Maybe she did sometimes know what she was talking about, maybe she was right about a few things, like maybe she was right that watching two hot looking guys getting it on was 'Hot'? Or maybe she was wrong... it wasn't hot. It was the most unbelievably sexy thing she'd ever seen. Making a mental note to grab Ron when this was over and use up some of this edgy, hot feeling by forcing him to confess his well known feelings, Hermione sat back to enjoy the show, blushing every now and again as one or another of the boys would grind against the other, generally resulting in cries and moans of rapture.

Then suddenly the nature of the kisses changed. Their mouths began separating more frequently, with small lover-like kisses bestowed across the brows and cheekbones. The moans became odd little mewling sounds of protest and pleasure as their mouths caught and held in quick bursts. Hermione marvelled at what amazing kissers both boys appeared to be... unless they were only this way with each other? She shivered and hoped she could remember Neville's spell at a later date for a less public viewing, nearly moaning herself when she watched Harry circle his tongue around the shell of Draco's ear before moving down to lap softly at his pulse point. Draco's soft cry of pleasure echoed around the hall as everyone held their collective breath, glued to the sight before them.

Harry increased his attention to Draco's throat, nipping and sucking softly there as the blond let his head fall back, lost in sheer enjoyment before he stiffened. Harry's mouth stilled upon his throat, and both boys roving hands ceased their journeys.

Draco's eyes shot open, widening in horror as he pushed away from Harry at the precise moment Harry shoved back hard and both tumbled to land in their own seats, facing each other, panting as each snatched up their wand. The silence was broken only by the ragged breathing of the two horrified young wizards as they sat, wands drawn high, pointed at the other, waiting for the next big surprise.

Malfoy discovered his voice first, forcing words past damp kiss-swollen lips. "You... Kissed...Me!" he barked accusingly through deep oxygen deprived gasps, lungs burning.

Harry sat up straight and yelled back in exactly the same furious, breathless tone, "You... Kissed... Me... First...You... Fucking... Bastard!"

Draco went red with anger and mortification, lunging at Potter, who shot to his feet with nothing more on his mind than strangling Malfoy. However when their bodies connected, admittedly through violence, both young men were made highly aware of each other's heightened state of arousal, jumping back as if they had both been scalded.

"That is, I believe, quite enough, gentlemen."

Harry and Draco both spun upon hearing Dumbledore's slightly amused admonishment. They were both made horribly aware of their audience by the hundreds of eyes upon them and both reacted as any young wizard might when faced with the same situation. They turned and fled.

TBC


	2. Humbled Part 2

Humbled: Part 2

Harry's lungs felt as if they might burst at any given moment, straining with the equal exertion they had endured during the 'kiss' and subsequent dash from the Great Hall. He became aware that the deafening beat of his own heart in his ears was accompanied by what sounded like frantic footfalls upon to the stone corridors. He was running away? He, Harry Potter, hope of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World, was making a break for it? He could live with that.

At least, he consoled himself, he wasn't alone in his cowardice.

Another glance to his left confirmed that the silver blond blur at his side was none other than Draco Malfoy. Draco glanced back at him then realisation hit them both. The boys ground to a halt in the middle of a staircase, both not quite up and not quite down, but most definitely both pissed off.

"Stop following me!" bellowed Draco, fury whitening further his already pale features.

Harry shook with anger. "You're the one following me, you fucking Ferret!"

"Why would I follow you, you fucking Muggle lover, when it's you I'm running from?" Draco looked shocked at his own outburst as Harry lifted an eyebrow, still panting from their mutual flight.

"You're running...from me? I'm running. ...From you!"

They both glared at each other with all of their remaining energy, swaying gently with overwrought nerves and effort, when Harry's eyes suddenly narrowed on a point over Draco's shoulder and swallowed hard.

"Actually we're both wrong," he stated and grabbed Draco, who began to object until he saw what Harry had begun to drag him away from, "We're running from them!"

Hordes of curious students had begun pouring from the Great Hall, Colin Creevey already armed with his camera, and the others merely armed with embarrassing questions.

"Run away!" Draco shrieked, pelting up the staircase with Harry in hot pursuit, both boys suddenly clinging to one another as the stairs began their dizzying journey to wherever they pleased.

"Fucking moving staircases!" Harry yelled, pulling Draco to the top step in preparation for yet more running. The teenagers were safe on the corridor before the steps had even securely latched onto their new position and as Harry made to grab Draco and run, the blond pulled back.

"What 'the fuck' are you doing, Potter? I'm not escaping with you!"

"I've got an idea," Harry gasped, pulling frantically at Malfoy's clothes as his panicked eyes fixed on the students now hurriedly clambering up the stairs.

"Oh really, well maybe I have my own idea and just maybe it involves leaving you behind, Potter!"

Draco spun to run in the opposite direction from Harry's persistent gesturing only to find himself hauled flush against Harry's increasingly furious form.

There were excited gasps from their spectators below, all hoping for a repeat performance of the hall when they saw Harry manhandling Draco. Malfoy swore softly, not entirely sure of Potter's intentions himself.

"Look, Malfoy," Harry hissed, eyes glowing dangerously behind thick lenses, "There is no reason I shouldn't leave you behind either, but I figure we're in the same boat, we don't know who the fuck did this to us and does your fucking perfect plan 'maybe' happen to have a Invisibility Cloak involved?"

Draco gasped, suddenly remembering the shock of seeing Harry's head appear from nowhere a few years back and doubled his glare.

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" he growled, jealous and impressed all at once.

"Yes and only those who aren't too fucking stupid to follow me get to play with it! So long, Malfoy!" Harry released Draco, much to the great disappointment of Hermione, who had finally managed to get a place on the staircase, before turning and sprinting towards the Gryffindor dorms.

Draco rolled his eyes and threw up his palms in a classic 'why me' gesture before dashing after the other young wizard.

Hermione groaned. She knew she should have rushed out straight off instead of trying to snap Ron out of his comatose state. She'd made an excuse of helping Harry to Professor Sprout, who was currently fussing over the stunned redhead, before pegging it to the stairs just in time to see Harry grabbing Malfoy and hauling him to the top step. She made her way back to the hall and sat down heavily next to Ron.

"My timing sucks," she told the still prone boy.

"Ggggguuuuhhhh," he responded woefully.

***************

"Hurry," panted Harry, who had now taken to dragging a now flagging Malfoy behind him. "They're going to figure out where we're going, we have to get there first!"

Screeching to a halt outside the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry yelped as he noticed the large group of Gryffindors leading large groups in their direction, picking up the pace as they saw Harry and Draco.

"Pink Flamingo!" Harry yelled and pushed Draco through the opening.

"What the fuck, Potter? Now we're trapped in here!"

"Shut up, Malfoy, and come on!"

Trembling, the boys ran swiftly up yet more stairs to Harry's room, quaking as they heard the masses spilling into the common room below.

"Quickly," whispered Draco urgently as steps were heard coming ever closer, Harry rifling frantically through his trunk.

"Gottit!" Harry shouted, the triumph on his face quickly overshadowed by fear as the group reached his door. Hauling Draco from his frozen position by the door, Harry backed them both into a corner and flung the cloak over them both at the very moment his door was flung wide.

Dissatisfaction was etched into all the other students' faces, Ron, Hermione and Neville's conspicuous by their absence. A collective sigh of regret was heaved as they all noted that there was no naked Harry and Draco rolling about gloriously on Harry's bed.

"Wait," Seamus yelled, a light bulb nearly visible above his head, "They were getting it on in the Hall yeah? They want to get caught... they're into exhibition aren't they, the cheeky buggers, I bet they're in someone else's bed! Let's go check mine!"

The group whooped and cheered, dissipating as quickly as it had formed in the doorway as Draco snuggled closer to Harry beneath the cloak, shuddering with distaste. "Potter," he whispered into Harry's shoulder, "If you 'ever' catch me on or in Finnegan's bed, I want you to kill me."

"Happy to," Harry muttered back, grimacing, "Except I don't give a shit whose bed you end up on, let alone catch you at it."

Draco pushed away, hurt more than he cared to admit, "Fine then. And don't think for an instant that I give a shit what or who you do either, Potter!" He stepped away from beneath the cloak, straightening his robes with great dignity before diving back into Harry's embrace when yet more footfalls pounded towards the room.

"Don't let them find me," Malfoy mewled into his nemesis' shoulder, comfortably crushing the air from Harry's lungs as he pressed ever closer in panic.

"We can't, ah, stay here..." Harry exhaled sharply as Draco turned his face inward, his cool lips brushing the warm skin at Harry's nape. "If they found us here they'd...Uhm, what are you doing, Malfoy?"

"Hiding," Draco muttered against his skin, following it with what sounded suspiciously like 'dumbfuck' and Harry bristled.

"And kissing my neck helps you hide 'how', Malfoy?" he purred.

TBC


	3. Humbled Part 3

Humbled: Part 3

_"And kissing my neck helps you hide 'how', Malfoy?" he purred._

Outraged, Draco stiffened and pulled away from a smirking and smug Harry, forgetting to remain within the concealing limits of the cloak in his fury.

"Fuck you, Potter!" he spat, face twisting further in anger as the cloak swung down as he retreated, reducing Harry to nothing more than a vague blurring of the wall behind him once more. Harry sniggered at the colour that rushed into Malfoy's face, summoned both through anger and the stupidity he felt at seemingly yelling at no one.

"Don't fucking laugh at me, Scar-face!" Malfoy spluttered, yanking blindly at where he knew the cloak to be, his efforts revealing an amused but annoyed Harry beneath.

"Oh good work, Malfoy," Harry drawled, mimicking Draco's usual mocking tone, "raised voice, fucking 'snatching' my cloak off me... yeah, they'll never find us this way."

"Fuck you!" Malfoy growled and Harry smirked again, enjoying his newfound feeling of superiority and righteousness over the prince of Slytherin. "Y'know, that's the second time you've said that in as many minutes, Malfoy. I'm starting to think you want me to."

Loud voices were heard somewhere nearby and Malfoy tensed, his expression hunted as his eyes flickered towards the door once more. "Want you to what?" he ground out harshly, ears on the verge of pricking as he listened closely for the sounds of impending Gryffindors, jumping as Harry laughed, a quick burst of sound before he stepped close, too close.

"To fuck you, 'Draco'," he hissed, mouth mere inches from his young nemesis' ear, "To fuck you."

Draco decided he had two options. One: He could spit in Potter's face, grind him into the floor, write rude words in his freshly spilt blood then insult his friends and family. Two: He could insult Potters friends and family, spit in his face, grind him into the floor then write rude words in his freshly spilt blood. He was still trying to decide between the two when he grabbed him by the front of his robes and slammed him backwards into the wall.

"You muggle-loving, fucking deformed, parentless, stupid haired..." Whatever nice sentiment had been about to follow this tirade was abruptly halted as Harry reacted to the comment about his parents by latching onto the front of Malfoy's robes, dragging him the extra inch or so upwards to look directly into his eyes.

"If you 'ever'", Harry ground out between clenched teeth and whitened lips, "say 'anything' about my parents again, if you so much as 'sneer' when they are mentioned just one more time, Malfoy, I will take this wand and shove it so far up your p-hole you'll wish I'd have snapped it off for you instead."

He tightened his fists in Malfoy's robes, drawing him the extra inch closer, pulling him off balance so that Draco was forced to brace one hand upon the wall above them just to keep from toppling into Harry's hate filled gaze

"I'm sorry." Malfoy's lips barely moved, and his eyes never left those of the Gryffindor before him, yet somehow the words made their way to Harry's ears.

Surprise loosened Harry's hold an instant before the door flew open, the reduction in fury letting Draco slip down slightly, the slight height difference causing him to tilt his head upwards in order to hold Harry's pleasantly shocked gaze. Why exactly he felt the need to keep the Gryffindork's nearsighted eyes locked with his, Malfoy let slip him by as he let the somewhat more perplexing problem of his 'actual' state of sorry-ness sweep over him, a rather new sensation to the boy who people joked had had his conscience removed at birth.

Before he could finish his puzzled ponderings or momentarily marvel at the sheer stupidity of the author's alliterations, he realised that Harry was no longer staring at him, but gazing, deer-like, at a point over his shoulder. He began to turn his head slowly, only to have Harry's hand shoot up and clasp him firmly about his jaw. "Do you trust me?" He whispered, lips barely moving.

Draco considered his answer carefully. This was the hope of Hogwarts he was dealing with, the saviour of the wizarding world, the boy who literally had hero stamped across his forehead. He couldn't be anymore the stereotypical 'good guy' if he'd ridden in on a white horse and vowed to rid Hogwarts of all its plagues by sundown. There was, Draco felt, only one correct answer to the Boy Wonder's question. "Hell no."

To his credit, Harry looked amused by Draco's response and Draco felt an answering tug at his mouth as Harry shrugged, eyes sparkling again, his anger dissipated completely as he dealt his trump card.

"Hello, Hermione."

Draco winced, turning his head enough to see Granger poised in the doorway, wand directed towards them, eyes wide as she took in Harry's clasp on his clothes, their proximity to each other and perhaps most damning of all, Draco's hand braced on the wall over Harry's head.

Hermione surveyed the two now blushing boys before her, breathing heavily at the wealth of opportunity available to her. The original plan had been exactly the same as everyone else's, seek out the two and demand a repeat performance. But now it occurred to her that, as the only student (or at least the only conscious or sentient one) aware of Harry's cloak, she had been the only one smart enough to double check his room so, surely, shouldn't she be the only one to watch them? She licked her lips, wiping her brow with the hand that wasn't fixedly pointing her wand at the two hot young wizards.

"If either of you even think of trying to escape I'll hex you all the way into next week," she growled, not surprisingly un-scary despite her obviously rampaging hormones. His eyes still firm on Hermione, Draco found Potter's mouth directly by his ear.

"Still not willing to trust me? I can get us out of this."

"Hell. No," Draco hissed, focused on the wand pointed at him.

"Wuss," Harry growled back softly, "She won't get us, I promise."

Draco snorted. "Oh gee, Potter, if you 'promise' then I guess that's just dandy." Harry sighed long sufferingly and Malfoy did his best to ignore the odd shivers the small puff of air against his lobe gave him.

"Ok, Malfoy, one: Sarcasm really is the lowest form of wit... therefore I'm not surprised, but two: must I remind you that as a 'fucking Gryffindor' my word is my fucking bond, alright?"

Draco's head shot round and he was vaguely aware of Hermione squeaking excitedly, under the impression they were about to lock lips. "Screw you, Potter, I'm the one she's really got that wand pointed at so forgive me if I need just a little more persuasion than 'I Promise' to make me risk this perfect ass, ok?"

Potter's eyes darkened significantly for the second time that evening and Hermione gasped, stepping forward, hoping for another steamy snog session, whimpering slightly as she watched Harry whispering low and urgently to Malfoy.

"Look, you narcissistic, over-groomed, over-gelled, overbearing twat, I'm a Gryffindor," his eyes burned with a kind of pride only experienced by those fortunate enough to be utterly convinced of their identity in ways such as pulling an ancient sword belonging to the greatest of all wizards from a moth-eaten hat. "A Gryffindor's promise is sacrosanct. Our word is our bond. I 'promise' you no harm will come to you. Alright?"

Draco's eyes had glazed over slightly at Harry's quiet yet fervent tone. There was no denying there was something about the guy that made you want to believe in him when he spoke that way, all impassioned and resolute. He briefly wondered if he ever practiced it in front of the mirror before blinking his way back into their hushed conversation. "Alright, Potty," he hissed, "but this'd better be good."

Harry smiled wickedly, making Draco wish he could retract his words as the reputed heir of Gryffindor pressed his lips tightly to the Slytherin's ear.

"Oh it will be," he murmured, "Just be ready to hold on... tight." With that Harry stepped away from the wall, spinning Draco against it as he did so.

"Don't move! I'll hex you!" Hermione screamed, furious that she'd let her heated imaginings distract her from watching the two young wizards. Harry turned to look over his shoulder at her, his mouth twisted appealingly into a sexy half smile.

"What's the matter, Herm?" he asked, cupping Draco's jaw in one palm as the other flattened out to hold him fast against the stone, "Don't you want to watch?"

Draco and Hermione squeaked in unison as Harry purred these last words and Draco flushed at the purely predatory glint in Harry's eye.

"Ummm," was all he managed before Harry proceeded to pin him to the wall with his hips and tongue, flickering adeptly at the corners of his mouth until Draco found himself parting his lips to allow Harry greater access. As Harry moaned into the kiss, Draco was vaguely aware of another whimper over the rushing sound of his blood. He urgently hoped it wasn't him, knowing it was possible as he seemed to have lost control of his motor skills... it certainly hadn't been his idea to cling to Harry's chest with one hand and fist the other into his soft dark hair, his tongue battling furiously against his rival's in a much more primitive challenge than Quidditch had ever offered.

Suddenly another figure appeared in the still open doorway, causing Hermione to shriek and Harry and Draco to tear their lips apart. Harry blinked through apparently steamy glasses as Draco focused on the person swaying in the doorway.

"Gggggggggggghhuuuuuuuhhhhhh?" Ron said, and passed out.

***************

Harry had a plan. It wasn't a great plan, it wasn't even a good plan and Harry was fairly certain that the second Draco discovered what the plan entailed he'd hex him where he stood. The main problem was, aside from the sheer, overall 'bad-ness' of the plan itself, Harry realised, was that Harry simply could not think clearly with Draco's tongue intertwined with his own and his body pressed against his. Fortunately for our young hero, at the precise moment Harry realised he could think of nothing but how he was actually kissing Draco Malfoy, our young hero's loyal sidekick appeared in the doorway, saw how Harry was actually kissing Draco Malfoy and promptly lost consciousness.

Tearing his lips from his supposed arch rival's, Harry took a moment to feel pride in his choice of best mate. Even unconscious, Ron had provided the distraction needed. He glanced over to Hermione who, overwhelmed by her second front row viewing of the night, had sat down heavily on Ron's bed, wand dangling limply from her hand. She'd jumped at Ron's unexpected reappearance in this tale, preparing to dash over and lock whoever the interloper was in or out and then continue with the evening's entertainment and, in doing so, allowed her wand to slip unnoticed onto Ron's bedcovers.

Spying their best chance, Harry yanked Draco from his position on the wall, trying desperately not to notice the Slytherin's kiss-moistened lips. Grabbing his wand from his desk and throwing open the door to his cupboard, Harry dragged Draco with him to the windows. "Still trust me?" He panted as the adrenaline pumped in his veins, due, perhaps, more to his companion than to the situation. Draco gulped, still baffled by Harry's somewhat passionate tactics, before nodding.

"Good," Harry murmured, grabbing his cloak from the floor and wrapping it and his arms tightly about the other wizard. "Hold on tight, Draco," he grinned, "It's a long way down."

Before Draco had a chance to do more than go white with shock and then pink with arousal as Harry hauled him closer, Harry pointed at the windows with his wand. "Aloha Mora!"

"No!" Hermione screamed, more in anguish over their imminent escape rather than it's actual happening, snatching up her wand and rushing for the window.

Draco caught his breath as Harry pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I promise," he whispered as Draco found himself slipping into the deep green gaze before everything went black as Harry leapt out the window, dragging Draco with him as they fell, tumbling into the waiting darkness.

TBC


	4. Humbled Part 4

Humbled: Part 4

_Draco caught his breath as Harry pressed a quick kiss to lips. "I promise," he whispered and Draco found himself slipping into the deep green gaze before everything went black as Harry leapt out the window, dragging Draco with him as they fell, tumbling into the waiting darkness. _

Draco Malfoy was, to his great pride, one of that lucky sort of people who know precisely what to do in a crisis - Panic, and let everyone else take care of you.

Sadly, Draco found himself unable to indulge his usual practice of shrieking like a five year old exceptionally girly girl faced with a creepy crawly of any type as he found himself lulled into an odd sense of safety by the tingling of his lips, the odd timbre of his companion's voice as they'd tumbled out into the night, and the odd flashes of colour before his eyes. Green, black, gold, black, green, black, green, gold, green, black, black, black...green. The odd permeating sense of calm dissipated as Draco realised that the slowly ebbing golden glow came from the flare of the Gryffindor dorm lights, punctuating their exit into the night. Green (Potter), black (night), Potter, night, Potter, night, green, black, green, black.

The gold was disappearing faster and faster which, quite reasonably, Draco assumed meant that they were plummeting closer to the ground, still helpfully masked by night. As Draco opened his mouth to finally release his trademark girly scream, his eyes began to roll back wildly (for maximum melodramatic effect) and he looked about him into the steadily increasing night as it prepared to swallow both he and the infernal 'Prat Who Lived'. But as his eyes rolled they caught onto the bright, astigmatic green gaze of the Prat himself.

Harry's eyes shone like the dreaded Aveda Kedavra curse itself as he thrust upwards and out with the arm not wrapped around Draco, his wand brandished high like a lightning rod, threw his head back and shouted, "Accio Firebolt!"

There was a sudden whooshing sound and for a moment Harry flailed, arm flexing madly in the now whistling breeze that passed them as they hurtled yet closer to earth before, with a bone-jarring jolt, they stopped. Draco's eyes widened at their sudden halt, glancing upwards to where Harry now clenched white knuckles about the much polished handle of his Firebolt, leaving them both dangling, gratifyingly stationary, in the air. Air rushed from the young Slytherin's lungs in a great burst of relief, catching suddenly in his throat in consternation as he caught the evil look on Harry's face. The Gryffindor smirked, having noticed his rival's now significantly relieved and trusting grasp on his robes, and a somewhat terrifyingly 'Fred and George' grin appeared on the brunet's face.

"S'long, Malfoy," he purred and released his death grip on the Slytherin.

Malfoy fell into the darkness below... for all of six feet, before landing with a loud 'ooof' and a string of exceptionally ingenious curses all aimed at everyone's favourite Gryffindor.

Harry chuckled, swinging his legs up to loop carelessly about the handle, his other hand relaxing to let him dangle, grinning like an overly smug, mischievous bat with constant bed hair, directly in front of a now very, very pissed off and naturally vindictive Malfoy. Bad idea. Bad, 'bad' idea. Draco grabbed Harry by the aforementioned constant bed hair that, Draco suddenly and sickeningly remembered, was in its current state of disarray due to his own flexing, fevered fingers during Harry's little 'distraction.'

The softness of said hair was the reason for what followed, Draco rationalised. Had it not been such an appalling reminder of the humiliating debacle mere minutes previous to this moment then all he would have done was yank on the annoying git's hair till he fell. What he did, however, was fist his hand into the dark, silken locks and twist, pulling hard enough to make Harry squeak with pain and drop gracelessly to the ground beside Malfoy, whose hand still residing in Harry's hair, twisted upwards, letting gravity do its worst as Harry yelped again.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, dragging himself to his feet and glaring through slightly watering eyes at the now, and likely forevermore, smirking Draco Malfoy. "What the fuck did you do that for, you fucking ferret, I just saved your fucking ass, you asshole!"

Draco, if possible, smirked more. "My, that was eloquently put, Pot-head, but need I point out that you also dropped me on the ass you purport to have saved?"

"Purport to have saved? Fuck you, I just saved both our asses and if I had to do it again I'd drop you from a hell of a lot higher!" Harry's eyes brimmed with righteous fury and for a brief moment Draco could almost believe the past hour had not happened. Or at least he could until he heard Hermione's shrill scream floating to them on the breeze.

"There! Down there! They're outside, quickly come on!"

Draco shuddered at the rabid tone of desperation in her voice, turning to Harry as the Firebolt flew obediently to his outstretched palm.

"C'mon, Potter, we've got to go! It sounds like your pet Mudblood's on route and bringing friends so let's..." The rest of Draco's sentence fled his mind as a now highly irate Potter hauled Draco up onto his toes and into his face for the second time that evening.

"Take. It. Back," Harry snarled, teeth a white slash of colour in his dark face, his lips having pulled back in fury as Draco stared, dumfounded by the ire in that emerald gaze.

"Get the fuck off me, Potty," Malfoy spat in return, hating the odd surge of his blood. "We don't have time for the appropriate awe struck thank-yous for your 'amazing' death defying rescue of poor little me so let's just take our fucking hands off my fucking robes and try a little personal space now, huh? Because... Oomph!"

Draco found himself pressed hard against the walls of the Gryffindor tower for the second time that night with the well toned, nicely trim figure of Harry Potter trying to imbed himself into his skin in abject fury and before Draco had a chance to squelch the thought, he realised the sensation was more than not wholly unpleasant. This, naturally, had all the effect of a red rag to a bull whose wife left him for aforementioned red rag and needs a caffeine fix.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKING SCARFACE, BEFORE I SHOVE THAT BROOMSTICK UP YOUR ASS!" Draco yelled into the already screaming face of Harry.

"FUCKING TAKE IT BACK, YOU FUCKING UNBEARABLE TWAT! YOU'VE GOT NO FUCKING RIGHT TO TALK THAT WAY ABOUT HERMIONE AND I SWEAR TO MERLIN IF YOU CALL HER A MUDBLOOD JUST ONE MORE TIME I'LL..."

Both Harry and Malfoy stopped, realising that neither had heard the other through their little screaming match, both breathing hard, chests pushing against each other in unison as they each paused, panting.

"If you call Hermione a Mudblood again, Malfoy, I SWEAR I'll make you live to regret it," Harry wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue and Malfoy pressed closer, hissing as his eyes followed the movement.

"Oh, you'll do what, Potter? Be my best friend and never leave my side? I think that would be fucking punishment enough for life, but then it's not going to be a problem, because if you don't back the fuck off I'm going to hurt you so bad that stupid scar's going to look like a love bite."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really."

"You think?"

"I know."

For the supposed two greatest rivals of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the previous few lines of dialogue seemed somewhat sadly lacking. However, as each was muttered with a rapidly decreasing decibel level and increasing proximity level, I think it's fair to say we can forgive the boys for this slip in their usual witty repartee for the sheer enjoyment factor of seeing the two practically whispering into each other's mouths, gazes locked, voices no more than soft, harsh murmurs.

"I fucking hate you, Potter."

"Feeling's mutual, Malfoy."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So're you going to do something about it?"

"I plan to."

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Potter."

"Malfoy?"

"Shut the fuck up and ki... mmmmmmmmm."

Harry obeyed Malfoy with a speed and willingness neither boy lingered over, both whimpering as Harry's tongue shot out to silence Draco by running its tip across the open seam of his lips, seeking entrance more than silence. Draco's blood roared in his ears, his inner 'Malfoy' doing the same in his head, pointing out that no spell or distraction had spawned this abomination, and that mewling like a kitten into Harry's mouth would only quicken his downfall. Fortunately for Draco, his hormones were on standby, taking over his motor functions to the point where even he was surprised to find his hands inside Harry's shirt and clenching on his firm ass. Harry whimpered loudly as Draco shifted his hips, suddenly lifting him the extra inch or so that would allow Harry to pin him to the wall with his pelvis and nothing more, leaving Harry's hands free to roam at will.

"Mmm." Harry squeezed Draco's ass. "Fucking...Mmm...yeah... mmmmm... I... Fucking... Hate ... You... mmmmmm. ... GOD, yeah...mmmmm."

Draco wouldn't have paid much attention to these mutterings around his throat, ears, collarbone and any other area Harry happened to be munching on, but the little jabbing thrusts of Harry's now somewhat more noticeable pelvis against his own, punctuating each word, caught and held Draco's focus.

"Hmmmmm, interesting, Potter, really," he ground out, proud of his voice being steadier than the Gryffindor who was currently occupied with laving Draco's pulse point with his tongue, before groaning loudly as Draco wrapped his arms tightly about his shoulders giving him the needed lift to wrap his legs about the hero's waist. "Such a surprise after all, being that I hate you, too, but here's an idea... how about you shut the fuck up and suck my tongue, ok?"

Malfoy gave Harry a 100 points for Gryffindor for being a quick study, groaning as the dark-haired boy proceeded to do exactly as he was told, growling as he nipped lightly at Draco's tongue before soothing the slight hurts with his own soft tongue. He deducted them a moment later as Harry ground his hips and Draco's into the wall behind them, causing Malfoy to whimper loudly enough to pervade the lust filled haze on his mind.

Slowly, as in the Great Hall, Malfoy's brain shifted the focus from his feelings to his actions. Suddenly Draco could picture himself clearly, hard up against the wall, legs wrapped tightly about the Gryffindor's waist, arching and moaning into his thrusts like one of Potter's god-damned 'female' groupies.

Snarling, Draco tore his mouth from Harry's, dropping his legs down so he could push Harry from him in disgust, not realising the strength of Harry's grip on him as they both toppled to the ground. Harry was the first up, rolling away swiftly and pulling himself to his feet with the same dazed expression from their first encounter during dinner. He blinked at Malfoy, running his fingers clumsily over his now swollen lips, the gesture angering Malfoy at the blatant reminder. He stepped forward to yell, punch, kick, do 'anything' that didn't involve kissing when a large group of Gryffindors (Ron and Neville still absent), headed by Hermione, rounded the corner.

"Oh shit," both boys muttered, glaring as they realised they'd spoken in unison. Harry grabbed his Firebolt and cloak from where they'd fallen, forgotten in the (umm) heat of the moment, straddling his broom and shooting Malfoy a quizzical look.

"Look, I can't promise not to kill you and thanks to whatever the fuck spell we've got on us I can't even promise not to kiss you, though I'm going to do my damndest." Here he shuddered and Malfoy scowled. "But the way I see it is this; you hate me, I hate you, but I'll take you over the hormone crazed mob any day." Draco glanced at the rapidly approaching crowd.

"Ditto," he muttered, flinging himself astride the broom, behind Harry. "Now get us the fuck out of here."

"With pleasure." Harry grinned over his shoulder and, much to his disgust, Draco found it reassuring.

Within seconds the two boys were shooting back into the night sky as roughly 25 Gryffindors all screamed in frustration.

"Damn it!" Hermione yelled, stomping her foot inelegantly before sighing deeply. ' I wonder if we could have stopped them if we hadn't stopped to watch them grinding on that wall awhile before rushing down to catch them?' she pondered, before recalling said grinding, the image of Harry's body thrusting Draco's into the stone behind them as their joint moans and whimpers drifted up to the sighing and frustrated onlookers crowded at the dorm windows, making her blush with bliss.

"We'll get them," she promised herself fervently, again replaying the moment when Draco flung his legs up about Harry's waist and shuddering with pleasure. "We'll get 'em good."

TBC


	5. Humbled Part 5

Humbled: Part 5

_(Warning: This Chapter features a little Blood & Breath Play)_

Grateful for the lack of moonlight, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter sped high into the night sky, seeking safety and great distance from their obsessed stalkers, shivering from a mixture of shock and the frigid night air.

"So, that was umm..." Harry began, blushing as he surveyed the area for a place to safely land.

"Disgusting, disturbing, terrifying, revolting, sickening...?"

"Interesting."

"Interesting?" Draco shrieked, loosening his hold on Harry to stare in horror at the back of the brunet's head before reattaching himself quickly as Harry looped in the air, laughing at the antics of his near-hysterical passenger. Draco swallowed, moving his stomach from his throat back to its rightful place, digging his fingertips into the soft spot beneath Harry's ribcage in petty payback. He found himself biting back a grin as he heard a delighted chuckle from Harry at the gesture and for a moment it seemed as if there had never been any enmity between them.

"How about landing over on the opposite side of the lake?" Harry called over his shoulder, "Should take our 'avid' pursuers a while to get around it... that is unless they follow our example and all grab broomsticks." Draco nodded thoughtfully; grin fading as he remembered that this was enforced camaraderie, not actual friendship that drove them to work together.

"I don't think they'll get brooms, Potter. They seem to be acting under group mentality with bloody Granger as ringleader, and as long as she's on foot they're 'all' on foot."

Harry considered this, fighting the smirk that threatened at the corners of his mouth of Draco's forgetting to call Hermione 'mud-blood'.

"Ah, but she's smart, Draco... she might realise that the quickest way to track us is by broom."

The blond Slytherin raised an immaculate eyebrow, fixing Harry with the Medusa/Malfoy crossbreed stare (patent pending). "Smart she may be, 'Potter', but she's also the lust crazed female who locked her fellow lunatics from the room she caught us in." The eyebrow dropped back into place as he shuddered delicately, his eyes moving from Harry's face to stare at horrors unknown back towards the school. "She wants us, and badly enough that she won't let anyone get to us before she does. Gods, she might even screw the others over to keep us for herself again. Sneaky, that girl is, damn sneaky. Sneaky 'and' smart... bad mixture."

Bringing the broom to ground level, Harry hopped off, letting the handle sweep backwards from his weight loss, tipping Malfoy to the ground.

"Excuse me, Draco," he gasped in mock horror, "Smart, sneaky, lust crazed... did you just imply that my good friend Hermione is, in fact, a Slytherin?" Before Draco could do more than drop his jaw in outrage from his supine (not to mention sore) position on the ground, Harry clicked his fingers, grinning down at the blond. "Oh wait," he amended, tongue firmly in his cheek rather than Draco's for the first time in this story, "My bad, that would be 'stupid', 'ugly', sneaky and lust crazed."

Stupid, Draco could accept, he hadn't chosen his sidekicks for their amazing intellective skills. But ugly? With a roar, Draco shot to his superb, elegantly shod feet.

"Right! That's it, Potter, and do notice that 'you' are still Potter despite your now horrifyingly frequent use of 'my' given name, although I admit I'll get decidedly more pleasure out of hearing you screaming it amidst pleas for mercy which, I'll tell you now, you're not getting."

Harry, during this tirade, merely folded his arms across his chest and grinned like the cat that just found the combination to the safe with the heavily drugged canary in it.

"Stop smiling, Potter, your teeth'll fall out too quickly if I hit you looking like that and I won't get half as much pleasure from it." Harry had the gall, at this point, to start laughing, a full, rich belly laugh that resounded in Draco's ears and had the regrettable effect of making his toes curl somewhat. As if the implication that Draco was even slightly less than the poster boy for physical perfection, the added insult of Harry's genuine mirth was simply too much for the non-ugly, non-stupid Slytherin to take. With a screech worthy of a banshee, Draco threw himself at the still chuckling Harry, the impact bearing them both to the ground, only recently vacated by the impassioned blond.

The combination of the cold ground beneath him, and the raging wizard atop him, had a somewhat cooling effect on the young Gryffindor. Grabbing wildly at the slim wrists connected to hand pale hands closing round his throat, he thrashed against Malfoy, trying to dislodge him.

"Draco! Draco, stop... you don't understand! I was just... DRACO, STOP!" Draco, who had, by this point, torn his hands from Harry's throat and pinned the Gryffindor's above his head against the cold earth beneath him, snarled, teeth gleaming, bright and feral in the moonlight.

The soft haze over the night sky lit Draco from behind with an ethereal glow and for a badly timed moment it was all Harry could do to stare up into the angry yet angelic face above him. A lock of silver white hair fell forward into Draco's eyes and he blew impatiently at it, the oddly childish action bringing a goofy smile to the Gryffindor's face.

"Something funny, Potter?" The snarling teeth came closer still and the smile melted away as Draco pressed himself harder into the teenager, crushing the air from him with his weight.

"I asked you what's funny, Scar-Face?"

"You, this, me... don't you get it, Malfoy? This is the problem... here... now... if you don't get off me... you're... 'Merlin', quit crushing me, would you? If you don't calm down and get the fuck off me you're going to end up with your tongue halfway down my throat again, all right? Now get OFF!"

Draco, who had been smirking maliciously at Harry's desperate to both speak and breathe at the same during his little speech, sat back, straddling Harry's lower body and effectively holding him in place whilst still pinning his hands above his head. He sneered into the brunet's anxious face, "All right, Potter, not that that's not a highly terrifying and hideously revolting threat... but would you mind explaining just what the fuck you mean before I beat your face in?"

"Look, 'Malfoy'," Harry sighed long-sufferingly, "This is hard enough to explain without your quite frankly pitiful attempts at threatening me, so would you mind getting a sodding clue long enough for me to put this into small enough words for your teeny tiny little mind to comprehend? Do you think you could do that for me?"

One exquisitely shaped silver eyebrow shot gracefully upwards. "You all done talking, Potter?" Malfoy inquired solicitously, mouth drawing into a thin line at Harry's wary nod, "Good, now get ready to spit teeth." His fist shot backwards to gain velocity, freeing Harry's to spring out and catch it mere inches from his face, struggling furiously once more.

"Malfoy... wait! All right... I'm sorry... you're 'not' ugly or stupid... in fact you're really quite good-looking and 'highly' capable of understanding big words, ok? Will you just listen to me for one minute, just 'one' minute, Malfoy?"

It was getting harder to withhold Draco's right fist with his left hand and Harry could feel the sweat beading on his brow with effort. "Draco... please?"

Anger still flickered in the blond's gaze, but he slowly released his death grip on Harry's right hand and sat back once more, fist falling to his lap.

"'Quite' good-looking?" he queried coolly and Harry sighed again, closing his eyes briefly in defeat.

"Fine... you're quite possibly the closest thing to handsome in Slytherin... ok, OK!" he stopped, holding his newly freed hands up and grinning lopsidedly up at the again silently fuming young wizard, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding... what do you want me to say? That you're 'the' most attractive, mind-blowingly sexy, 'brutally' hot person that I've ever seen and am ever likely to meet?"

The eyebrow quirked again, in perfect time with one corner of Draco's mouth, as he purred, "It's a start."

Harry rolled his eyes again for good measure before fixing Draco with a resigned stare.

"You're gorgeous and you know it," he stated simply.

A small blush crept over the two wizards equally enviable cheekbones and for a moment they just looked at each other in silence before Draco exhaled heavily. "What?"

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Hmm?"

"What?"

"What?"

Draco blinked, "What?"

"That's what I asked you!"

"What? Why?"

"You're not making any sense!"

"What? I'm making perfect sense, you bloody Gryffindor prat!"

"Don't shout at me... you bloody started it!"

"WHAT?"

Draco had been happily enjoying the afterglow of what had quite possibly been the single nicest and most sincere compliment he had ever received, but now he could feel his irritation creeping slowly up the scale.

"Ok, Potter, we're going to take this slowly all right?" Harry snorted at this, glancing down to where Draco's hips pinned Harry's to the ground, waggling his eyebrows a la Groucho Marx. Draco exhaled slowly, closing his eyes briefly. It wasn't going to be a long night; it was going to be interminable.

"Potter. There is only one thing coming between me and my desire to kill you and that is my simple overwhelming curiosity to hear what amazing and outright ridiculous theory you believe would make me so much as touch you let alone allow you to violate my person... 'again.' So start talking."

Potter looked remarkably relaxed as he shrugged himself upwards, propping his weight on his shoulders and elbows, leaning up to smirk in a truly Malfoy-esque way, "You heard me wrong, Draco, I said that 'you' would be violating 'me' if you didn't stop... but that's not the point," he amended hurriedly upon seeing murder flickering in the blond's eyes, "The point 'is'... what do all our...Ummm... encounters have in common?"

Draco sat back further, propping his weight on his haunches as he tried to dispel how good and natural it had felt to have Harry looking up at him. For a brief moment he had been talking earnestly, shy grin twisting his features into gentle expressions far from anger that Draco had felt himself sinking into, almost desperate to bring up the weather just to hear Harry's further inanities in that serious, low, soft tone. Harry now sat up, resting his palms against the dirt to look questioningly at the thoughtful Slytherin who shrugged, unable to rouse himself from his sudden appreciation of the trim seeker's form beneath him.

"Think about it... what happened the first time? You sneered at Ron, Ron bit, I stepped in, we fought then someone yelled some kind of spell or hex or something..." he blushed here, grinning crookedly up at a reluctantly still oddly charmed Draco, "I didn't really pay a lot of attention... I just heard the yell, saw the blue smoke and then... well, unfortunately we both know the rest...but, d'you see where I'm going with this, Malfoy?"

Malfoy shifted, making himself more comfortable on Harry's lap without even a flash of self consciousness, frowning down at the Gryffindor, but intending it for himself as he realised he'd no idea what Harry'd been saying, so lost had he been in that seductive baritone. "Sorry, Potter," he murmured huskily, raising a smooth silver brow in deliberate self-deprecation, "But due to an unexpected lack of oxygen at all too frequent intervals this evening... I fear my mind is not all it once was."

He hadn't expected Potter's easy laugh, the crinkling, bright eyes behind thick lenses and for a moment was tempted to grin back at him, the urge fortunately smothered by years of training how in the art of 'Holier Than Thou' crossed with 'Who're You Looking At... Ugly?', and his expression receded into a mere lip quirk and the eyebrow lowering again.

"Ok, ok," the golden boy laughed, "Put it this way... Great Hall, screaming and shouting equals kissy-kissy, under my cloak... kissy-kissy, base of the tower... kissy-kissy and if I hadn't stopped you just a moment ago..."

"Potter, if you say 'kissy kissy' just once more I'm going to invert that pretty little nose of your's and if that isn't the biggest load of Hippogriff shite I've 'ever' heard I..."

"It's 'not' shite, Malfoy, you're the one who said you couldn't think straight so if you've got a fucking better explanation then I'm all ears, Malfoy, I'm all sodding ears."

Draco (along with all the strictly canonical fans) sat back with a sigh of relief as both boys resumed their standard practice of glaring poison tipped, razor edged daggers at one another.

Malfoy smirked, more than happy to get back to disparaging the boy wonder's mental abilities. "Look, Potter, just because I've got no more clue than you on this is no reason to get bitchy. Now why don't we pretend you never spoke to save you embarrassment and just because blocking you out is a major hobby of mine, ok?"

Harry appeared infuriated for a second then relaxed, a sinister smile blatantly ripped off from the Malfoy/Riddle franchise twisting his full lips. "So its hippogriff shit still, huh?"

Malfoy merely allowed his smirk to spread into a pitying smile and Harry pushed himself forwards, looking directly up into his young nemeses' face. "Did you block me out when you had your hands on my ass and my tongue in your mouth, too, Malfoy?" he whispered, baring his teeth in victory as Malfoy reddened. Draco's head was still searching wildly for a suitable scathing retort when Harry bucked his still pinned pelvis upwards slightly and pressed his mouth to Draco's ear to purr mockingly, "Or was it," another small thrust here, "too 'hard' for you to ignore?"

Draco's mouth dropped open, his face flushing as he gargled, enraged, before closing his hands around the Gryffindor's throat, squeezing hard around the windpipe, slamming his head backwards into the ground. Harry groaned, ears ringing from impact and a dull throb at the back of his skull, his fist shooting up to connect with Malfoy's nose, accompanied by a wet crunching sound. Blood spurted from the indented Malfoy beak, covering the writhing, gasping oxygen deprived Gryffindor beneath and Malfoy shrieked, his hands coming away from Harry's tortured throat to close over his own face.

Harry then punched him in the gut, bucking and trying to dislodge the now doubled over, bleeding Slytherin. "Fucking bastard..." he croaked through his tortured windpipe, "What the hell were you doing, trying to fucking kill me? Finish off your daddy's new bestest mate's work, huh?"

He latched onto Malfoy's silken hair with both hands and yanked the blond's head to his to yell into the ire-filled face, blood still rolling down his face in thick, hot waves to drip across Harry's chest.

"Fucking answer me!" he snarled, air leaving him in a sudden gasp as Malfoy's fist imbedded itself in his solar plexus.

"Shut," the winded and light headed Ice Prince, yanking Harry's arms down, pinning them against the ground heedless of the hair torn from his head by the action, "the fuck 'up'!" And, possibly more to his surprise than Harry's, he bit him, hard, tearing through Harry's lower lip, filling both their mouths with blood as he jerked his head to the side, tearing as much as he cut.

Harry yelped in pain, mouth parting to admit Draco's furious, seeking tongue, the blood from Draco's broken nose seeping through to flavour Harry's own, forced past his lips with Malfoy's brutal kiss. He thrashed against the gruesome onslaught, biting down hard on Draco's clever tongue, revelling in the hiss of pain that accompanied its retreat. Tumultuous silver met raging green, the moon casting white light across their faces, the skin bright and clear, the blood shining dark and malevolent between them, one glittering bead of ruby dangling from Draco's lip before splashing back to Harry's, its progress carefully observed by each shivering, gasping boy. Harry swallowed, jaw clenching, the sudden tightening of his face causing a fresh bead to form upon his torn, ravaged lip and with a soft groan Draco lowered his head, Harry's shudders increasing tenfold as Malfoy sucked gently, drawing yet more ruby liquid, but somehow draining the pain with each smooth stroke of his blood-wet tongue.

Somehow, as Draco softly worshiped the space he'd just plundered, Harry found his hands were free to tangle in Draco's hair, his lips drawn into a silken vacuum, each pulse of blood through his shredded mouth captured, his every breath swallowed and returned to him on a moan. Draco lifted his mouth for a moment to intake oxygen, eyes glazing over at Harry's whimper as the lack of kisses sent the stinging in his lips into pain overload. "So beautiful when you're angry," he murmured, closing his lips around Harry' tortured ones again, "So fucking beautiful."

He ground his hips into Harry's, fussing softly into Harry's lips at the sudden lack of response, tentative and troubled though it had been. The quick moment of pain had sharpened Harry's senses and, brain firmly back inside his head rather than slowly sinking southwards, he patiently if somewhat breathlessly awaited Draco's withdrawal. Harry's stillness had finally pervaded the young Slytherin's clouded mind and he drew back slowly, watching for the censure in the brunet's eyes. What he found there was a stilted triumph and quiet patience. "Choke hold, broken nose... kissy-kissy," Harry rasped.

Draco nodded slowly and passed out, pinning Harry beneath him once more. Harry slipped a hand beneath the prone wizard's chin, tilting his face away from his blood sodden clothes, half smiling, and half wincing as the blond took a much needed, wet sounding breath.

"Beautiful when you're unconscious, Draco," he whispered, smoothing the hair from his brow and smiling. "I think I like you better this way." And he let his head fall back against the earth, closing his eyes and sighing. The night had just become a lot more complicated. "Bloody kissy- kissy," he grumbled, and let the darkness take him.

***************

"I'm sick."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. Having woken a few moments before, he'd revived the Slytherin and healed his broken nose, even taking the time to charm off the bloodstains. Now he needed help in fixing his badly ripped mouth and all Draco could do was huddle over himself, staring back and forth between Harry's mouth and the ground, repeatedly muttering the same words, "I am, I'm sick."

Harry sighed, wincing as his hot breath crossed his still sluggishly bleeding lips, reiterating the same point he'd been making for the past five minutes. "You're 'not' sick… it's a spell, every time we fight we end up going at each other in ways we don't usually go 'at' each other…. This was just a perversion of our normal brawling… no biggie." He winced again as he tried to smile reassuringly at the silver haired boy before him, "Now could you help me out here, I can't see where to heal here."

Draco glanced backwards over his slumped shoulder, a tremor of shame running through him as he noted the ragged strips of skin and bruised, bleeding flesh that was Harry's mouth. He would have resumed his self-pity party, but the slight pallor of Harry's face and the way his words slurred together showed the pain the Gryffindor was trying in vain to hide. Crawling awkwardly, Draco found himself kneeling before Harry, blushing again in shame, an emotion previously unknown before that evening. He cupped Harry's jaw without pause, steeling himself for any horror or revulsion in the wide green gaze, but all he found was the dull light of pain and an odd gratitude and sympathy as the smile Harry attempted failed before it had even started, the brunet wincing more as more crimson beads formed across his lips.

Malfoy lifted his wand, oddly gratified at the lack of fear shown as he pointed it directly at Harry's face, muttering gentle numbing and repairing charms, adding a cleaning spell to remove all traces of blood from the relieved Gryffindor, who smiled now that he was able to do so.

"Thank you," he beamed, deliberately over enunciating his words with his pain free lips and a small smile crept over Draco's face.

"You're welcome and I... Ummm, that is I … I'm …"

Harry interrupted him, smiling still, "Its alright, Malfoy, you don't have to apologise. I know you're sorry and I'm a big enough person to let it slide," he mock severely waggled a finger at a bemused Draco, "Just don't let it happen again, young man."

Draco rolled his eyes, flushing in barely hidden relief and gratitude as he gave Harry the finger, "Oh, Harry," he uttered mock reverently, "You're such a big man." He ignored Harry's leer and raised eyebrow with a little less than all of his restraint, "Golly, I sure do hope I'm as noble as you when I grow up."

Harry snorted in amusement, standing and hauling Malfoy to his feet alongside him. "Golly?" he queried, grinning as Malfoy added another digit to his previous salute. "Besides," he continued as they dusted down their clothes, muttering cleaning charms on top of cleaning charms to remove the stubborn bloodstains, "I can afford to be the noble one, this is, after all, totally your fault."

Draco stopped, jaw agape in indignation. "'My' fault?" he yelped, hopping on one foot as he'd been holding one leg up to get a better aim at a particularly tricky mud smear from the back of his calf. "How in the name of Raistlin is this whole ghastly mess 'my' fault, Potter? You're the one foiling death attempts between classes not me. I'm not the one on the Dark Lord's hit list! This," he dropped his leg and gestured emphatically between them before prodding a slim pointed finger into the centre of Harry's chest, "This," he reiterated, " Is (prod) All (prod) Your (prod) Fault (push)."

Harry shoved back, laughing. "Oh sure, Malfoy, I'm just certain Lord Voldemort woke up this morning trying to think of new and ingenious ways to kick my bucket and suddenly, there he was halfway through eating his Weetabix when he jumps up. 'Eureka,' he cries, 'I've got it! My new and dastardly plot to pop the clogs of the devilishly handsome boy who lived is thus! I shall cast a spell, a devious, nasty, evil and most likely not very nice spell and then Harry Potter shall choke to death on the tongue of his most hated school rival Draco Malfoy! !"

Here Harry broke off, raising a satirical eyebrow towards his 'most hated school rival' who was currently trying not to dissolve into hysterics over Harry's little 'dark Lord' impression. "Anybody ever tell you that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Potter?" he drawled solicitously, lip quirking as Harry winked and beamed at him.

"'Course they did," he laughed, "Thought it might appeal to you." They both chuckled, blushing and suddenly ill at ease with the camaraderie that had sprung up between them.

"So," Draco said over loudly and clearing his throat, "If its 'not' your fault, why does it have to be mine?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you get higher marks than me," he muttered, "Think about it, Malfoy, the first time it happened today you had already been picking on half the occupants of the great hall," he paused at Malfoy's indignant squawk ('I do not pick') "Oh, you do too. Anyway, you'd been picking on loads of people then it got a little out of hand and as we started fighting somebody threw a hex our way. I'm betting it was meant for you because…" he trailed off grinning and holding out a hand, offering Draco the chance to finish the sentence.

"You're the most annoying, arse licking goody two shoes in the country?" Draco chirruped in a distinctly Colin Creevey style voice and Harry broke out laughing,

"No," he giggled, sending involuntary chills down the Slytherin's spine, "you were supposed to do the 'Golly and noble' speech again, but I guess that'll do."

Draco smothered his smile and schooled his features into a baleful glare, not fooling the other wizard in the slightest, "So what you're saying is that I'm the more likely suspect for a vengeful hex, hmm? Then why're you involved?"

Both boys stood in silence, thoughtfully replaying the horrors of the great hall incident over and over in their heads. "There was a crash," Draco murmured and Harry nodded.

"And someone, a guy, I think, shouted something."

"Blue smoke." Draco ran through every spell he could think of involving blue smoke but came up short.

Harry sighed, "Ok, brain storm time. A smashing sound and blue smoke, so it's probably a potion."

Draco nodded enthusiastically, mind clicking into gear. "And it was accompanied by an incantation of sorts, meaning whatever it was it should have been powerful, possibly more powerful than they expected."

"But meant for you."

"But 'you' got in the way."

"So my being there through the spell off course resulting in whatever the hell this is."

"Precisely."

"So what 'is' this?"

"Not sure, anger seems to lead to passion, distorted and sick though it seems, it's definitely passion."

"Isn't anger a passion anyway?"

"Kind of, that's probably why this keeps happening. It was probably designed to react to my words or actions and cause an adverse reaction to teach me to mind my temper or something."

Harry grinned and Draco covered his answering smile with a clumsy smirk. "What?"

"We're working together. Without fighting."

Something bubbled in Draco's stomach and he couldn't quite suppress the smile that time.

"Don't get used to it, Potter," he drawled, the effect quite spoilt by the lingering smile in his eyes, "It's only temporary, the second we get out of this annoying situation I'll go right back to being superior to you in every sense and you can go back to being ugly and badly dressed."

"You forgot hideously scarred and the rumoured best Seeker Hogwarts ever saw."

Draco sneered, "I don't deal in fiction, Potter." Harry's face lit up with mischief

"Oh! Then I'm 'not' hideously scarred!" he chirped in glee and Draco scowled.

"Fuck off, Potter," he muttered, his brows drawing together as Harry's expression suddenly became preoccupied.

"Draco," he began and said boy was glad for the pause, ignoring the quick hot twitch in his chest that came from hearing his given name in that gentle baritone, "Draco, if that spell was designed for you, just you, complete with pre-brewed potion and incantation, then shouldn't my presence have had no effect on the spell?"

Draco's jaw fell open as his brows shot to his hairline. "Potter," he said in shock, "did you just 'out-think' me?"

Harry blushed and squirmed shyly, "S'ok, you've had a rough day. It's not likely to happen again anytime soon."

For some reason this annoyed Draco, "Come off it, Potter, you're not actually stupid, you just never study and we both know its been you with the level head tonight so leave the Harry-bashing to me, alright?" Harry blushed even harder and Draco looked at the ground in horror. Had he really just defended Harry's honour to Harry himself? When he found out who cast that spell there was going to be some 'serious' vengeance to be had.

"So," Harry stuttered, crimson, "Now all we have to do is figure out who hates you and could have botched up the spell to such a high degree."

Here Draco's confidence returned, "Duh, Scarhead," he mocked, "There are only two people I can think of in this school who hate me that much and could possibly destroy the world as we know it simply by looking at a cauldron."

Harry laughed, catching on. "And I'm here so that only leaves…"

Draco nodded, eyes gleaming dangerously in the darkness. "Longbottom."

***************

Neville lay in his bed in the infirmary, staring up at the ceiling, as he had been when Madam Pomfrey left him there. He hadn't meant to hit Harry with the hex and he 'certainly' hadn't meant for what had followed between his friend and most hated foe. But most of all he hadn't meant for the sight of them, arms wound tightly about each other, tongues duelling, moans colouring the air, to be so unbearably arousing. Was he gay? He didn't know and if he was he was certain his grandmother wouldn't be pleased. She hadn't really told him much about gay people, but as far as he could tell they were bad, evil sorts, most likely to steal your purse and kick your puppy. His eyes filled with tears. He didn't want to steal peoples purses and he didn't want to kick puppies, even ones that had bitten him in the past. All he wanted was to watch Malfoy whimpering against Harry's mouth once more, hands twisting in each other's hair. He shudder as delicious thoughts ran through his brain, if he didn't think about his grandmother it wasn't so bad and he distinctly remembered Seamus offering to teach him how to kiss once before, maybe he could still take him up on the offer….

During this little introspective rambling, Neville had failed to notice the infirmary doors swing open and a figure come to stand over his bed, smiling with a great deal of triumph and self-satisfaction at the nervous boy laying there.

"Hello, Neville."

Neville jumped and twitched, as he was often wont to do and gasped. "Her... Hermione?"

TBC


	6. Humbled Part 6

Humbled: Part 6

"So what you're saying is," Draco snarled with all the ferocity of a Bond Villain only just realising just how stupid and easily defeated he had been, "You've got a map that shows you _all_ the secret tunnels and _all_ the passwords AND you've snuck into my common room on more than one occasion?"

Harry grinned triumphantly, "Yup."

"You utter bastard!" Draco cried in outrage and promptly kicked Harry in the shins.

This, while having the quite happy consequence of stunting the Gryffindor's mirth, did nothing to alleviate the sense of fruitlessness and anguish felt by the fuming Slytherin.

"So all this time, _all_ this time when I've been sneaking around doing my utmost, my very sodding best to be the most devious, sneaky and downright evil student in school you've not only had that _bloody_ cloak with which to hinder my escapades, but you could bloody outdo _me_, a fucking _Slytherin_ with just a piece of sodding parchment! It's not fucking FAIR!"

The usually pristine and pale Slytherin had reduced himself to a red gibbering mass by the time Harry had finished rubbing his mistreated shin and he cast a critical eye over the blond.

"Y'know, Malfoy, you should really try to calm down. What fun would it have been if we were completely unevenly matched? Or at least mismatched in your favour, this way we stick to the stereotype. You're the pointless yet essential bad guy and I'm the utterly wonderful and basically perfect good guy who always comes out on top." He grinned then bit his lip in consternation as the porcelain features before him purpled with rage.

"Pointless?"

Harry reached out to daringly pat the furious blond on the shoulder, "Well no, not pointless per se, but... umm, that is..."

"In contrast to _you_, who somehow always, ALWAYS gets what he wants and is universally adored, I am, as you so sweetly phrased it, pointless?"

Harry, never one for diplomacy no matter how hard he tried, considered this for a moment.

"Yeah, that's sort of what I meant... OOOOF!"

Draco's fist ploughed most satisfactorily into the softness of Harry's belly and the Slytherin smiled as the air rushed from the brunet in a great, surprised 'whoosh'.

"There," he purred smugly, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk, "How's that for pointless?"

Harry, eyes watering, managed to straighten up sufficiently to glare up at the insufferable Slytherin. "What the FUCK was that for?" he gasped, "Fuck, Malfoy, if you're going to overreact like that every time I say something you don't like or best you in any way then I think we'd be better off going separate ways because I, for one, would rather live to see tomorrow."

Draco let Harry's words settle a moment before a smile spread insidiously across his face. "So you admit I'm a significant threat to your life then?"

Harry gaped.

"How? How did this happen again already? Alright so I can accept that you dislike being pointless... sorry, being _called_ pointless, I'm sure you have your uses beyond annoying the shite out of me and, lest we forget, now trying to kill me. But HOW did we suddenly jump from us working together almost peaceably to your sudden assumption that I get everything I want and that I must therefore be destroyed?"

Harry held a hand up to silence the blond as he opened his mouth to respond, "By the way, I should add that if you're planning on continuing the whole 'Death to Potter' thing then yes, you ARE pointless because certain people's family members and evil twisted parent murdering bosses have that one firmly covered already."

Draco snarled then, unaware of how the expression made him look like a tantrum throwing five-year-old with a homicidal streak. "Don't you dare talk about my father, Potter. You don't know a fucking thing so just don't so much as speak his name to me."

"Yeah, that's right. I don't know anything, nothing at all about parents... and why's that? Oh, only because your daddy's bestest mate KILLED mine!" Potter's face had whitened with rage, Draco noted dully as he shot forward to clench his fists in the Gryffindor's collar, teeth bared as he shook Harry for all he was worth.

"Shut up! Just shut up, Potter... shut the FUCK up!"

It wasn't a great comeback, but then slamming his mouth against Potter's two seconds later wasn't the best idea either. His hands somehow shoved their way past Potter's robes, inching their way up inside his shirt to claw and knead imploringly at his shoulder blades, yearning to draw the other boy closer and tighter to himself, moaning in horror as he realised the whimpering noises he heard as Potter rubbed hard against Draco's pelvis actually came from his own mouth. Tearing their mouths apart both boys took a hasty step backwards, Draco leaning against a tree momentarily to catch his breath as Harry stood, panting, and glared at the other boy.

"Ok, now THAT one was definitely your fault," he grumbled, startled when Draco merely nodded in response. Harry quirked an eyebrow, "What? You're not even going to try and deny it?"

Draco bit his lip and shook his head mutely, eyes closing in defeat before jerking back open in surprise as warm fingertips grazed his brow.

"Nope," Harry murmured, pressing his hand against Draco's skin, "You don't _appear_ to be sick and yet you're quite blatantly not yourself... what's with the sudden change in behaviour, Malfoy?"

"I suggest you remove yourself from my personal space, Potter."

Harry grinned but didn't move away. "There now, that's better. You sound more like yourself already," he crooned mockingly, seemingly unaware of Draco's slowly heightening colour and shortened breath, Harry's fingers still stroking and smoothing the skin at Draco's brow.

"Potter," he spat with difficulty, "You _really_ need to move."

Having had more than enough of Draco's inherent melodrama by that point, Harry rolled his eyes and did his best to look thoroughly unimpressed. "Oh really?" he drawled.

"Yes," Draco whimpered in desperation before leaning upwards to press his mouth firmly against the Gryffindor's once more. Considering the total lack of violence preceding such an act, Harry's slack mouthed surprise was understandable to say the least, at most it was highly beneficial to the Slytherin attempting to crawl inside Harry's mouth tongue first.

Ignoring Potter's squawk of surprise, Draco wound his arms tightly about the brunet's neck, letting himself be overcome by the odd sweetness of this new kiss. There was no blood, no biting, no clawing, no sarcasm or screaming, just Harry's quiet murmur of assent as he let his body sink into Draco's, the tree now bearing both their weight, the only witness to the soft gasps and lingering caresses at its base.

Harry drew slow circles around Draco's lips with just the very tip of his tongue, loving the sensation of the Slytherin's slick mouth sliding beneath his, blood surging at the tiny little whimpers his actions seemed to produce and the erratic juts of Draco's hips against his.

"Y'know," Harry mouthed against the damp skin at Draco's jaw line, "We didn't even fight first this time, that's got to be progress." Draco shuddered as Harry's mouth moved lower to trail hot kisses down over the beating veins at his throat.

"Unlikely, Potter, if... if anything this is far, far worse than before."

"How...mmmm... god you taste so good just here... Mmm... uhh why, why do you say that?"

"Cos, uhmmm..." Draco gasped and bucked against the hard body pinning him to the tree trunk, Potter's fingers steadily unbuttoning his shirt with Draco mewling gently as the cool night air swept over his skin. "I, uhh, that is, before we uhh, had a build up, y'know, rage into... into this, but this time, I... I ah... I just _had_ to kiss you."

Harry's response was distinctly muffled by his mouth being attached firmly to the hollow of Draco's elegantly prominent collarbone. Draco stabbed his hips forward, he told himself, to remind Potter to not speak with his mouth... occupied.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, dragging his lips from Draco's pulse point with some difficulty, "I just said that surely it's better this way, the spell is running its course and we're past needing the stimulus of having to pound each other senseless first... umm..." They both blushed, minds racing at the connotations of the word 'pounding', but neither dared to consider why it affected them.

"So you're saying," Draco turned his head to lap at the fingers cradling his jaw, "That, umm, if we say, give into this right now, and, ummm, just go with it for a little while... then... ummm... then it'd be better for us in the long run?"

Harry lifted his head a second to properly ponder the question before dipping his head lower the nuzzle the starkly defined contours of Malfoy's slim marble-esque chest. "Yup," he murmured hotly against Draco's nipple.

"Oh... that's good," Draco muttered back before engulfing two of Potter's fingers with his mouth, suckling them needfully.

Harry shuddered. He would have better shown his appreciation for this had he not been quite so distracted by running his tongue back and forth over the pebbled hardness of Draco's small pert nipples. Entranced by the tickling sensation of the stiff, pink flesh pressing into his tongue, Harry let his mouth fall wide and sucked as hard as he could against the sensitive peak, smiling against the damp flesh at Draco's inarticulate and startled cry. Kissing his way wetly across the skin between, Harry latched onto the other nipple with a determined smirk and the beginnings of a stiff neck from stooping, therefore it seemed only natural to him to let himself sink slowly to his knees before the blond.

Draco, who had, until that point, been enthusiastically nibbling and suckling at the two fingers he'd seized, blinked suddenly, watching his supposed nemesis. Potter's height made it unexpectedly easy for him to continue lavishing his attentions on the blond's aching chest. Harry paused infinitesimally before moving to take deep, biting sucks along the length and breadth of Draco's sternum, laving his ribs with a hot eager tongue. Draco also became aware that Potter's shift in position allowed him greater access to other areas, as well, as Harry pressed his free hand down hard over a jutting hip bone and placed his mouth directly over the Slytherin's bellybutton. Draco gasped at the sudden wash of damp, heated breath against his naval, trembling as Potter slowly tilted his face to meet Draco's eyes, smiling mockingly at the hitch in Draco's breath as he slowly dipped his tongue into and then back out of Draco's navel.

Harry could not believe just how unbearably _bad_ he felt to be kneeling like this at Draco's feet. He knew there should be an element of concern at so prostrating himself before the boy who had only moments ago decided to force the air from his lungs via his fist, but now, clearly holding the blond captive with his own desire, Harry was helpless to resist his urges and to be honest he had no real intention of trying. He kept his eyes steady on Draco's as he pushed gently at the blond's swollen lips with his already dampened digits, sliding them gently into the warm, moist recesses of the Slytherin's mouth at the same moment as he slowly pushed his tongue into the slight indent of Draco's navel, before withdrawing and repeating, blushing inexplicably as he did so. Draco, despite his earlier worries over Harry's being quicker on the uptake, was no fool. Pursing his lips instantly, he sucked fiercely at the invading fingertips before letting his tongue drag backwards over them as they retreated, moaning gently as Harry matched his pace, stroke for suck, increasing and decreasing the tempo at Draco's will.

Draco was shivering. He couldn't quite fathom why, considering the fire currently racing through his skin, yet somehow he could not stop trembling under the watchful gaze of the boy kneeling at his feet. Potter's free hand was moving now, rubbing steady circles over his hip and abdomen, such a light caress yet somehow implicitly worshipful, like every swipe of his skin over Draco's was a privilege, Potter's pupils dilating further yet as Draco's skin peaked and perspired beneath his touch. His blood was surging now, mostly downwards if he were honest, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why that or any of this behaviour should be a problem, why it wasn't the most natural thing imaginable to let himself go hollow cheeked with suction, desperately trying to hold both Potter's fingers and tongue circling, flickering and invading his flesh just a single moment longer. Blinking rapidly, he noticed the soft light of amusement in the Gryffindor's gaze and flushed, certain that his very desperation must be evident in every laboured breath he took. Spite sparking quickly in his eyes, he deliberately nipped at Harry's fingers as they pulled out, hard enough to hear the brunet's sudden intake of breath and hissed response at his belly seconds before Harry Potter, the boy hero himself, smiled up at him with white vicious teeth and sunk them into the tender flesh at the lower edges of his navel.

Draco's cry burst through the night air, echoing as it bounced back off of trees, rocks, and the castle walls before it died out, leaving the blond horrified and thrusting out, helpless against the abrupt sensations boiling in his gut, shuddering as he tried to cease the rocking motion his hips begun as Potter's teeth pulled gently, tongue soothing the hurt away even as the brunet blinked in shock at the Slytherin's reaction.

Harry wanted to push his fingers through Draco's skin. He knew it was by no means a normal urge, in fact he rather thought it verged on sick, but as he watched the skin reddening around the blond's navel, teeth marks already turning pink under his quick tongue, he watched his fingers flexing on Draco's moon pale skin and wanted to just let his fingers slide inside him, watch them sink into that white flesh and make him cry out like that, like a hurt, wild thing once more. He let his mouth settle over the indent again, lapping softly, watching, always watching Draco, shuddering uncontrollably at Harry's hands and mouth, licking frenziedly at the pads of his fingertips, afraid to break each other's gaze. Slowly Harry drew a circle round the circumference of the sore, damp skin, tickling and dipping with his tongue, feeling the gentle surge and prod of Draco's hips against his upper chest before suddenly closing his lips over the blond's navel and sucking violently, desperate for a mark there, his mark on Draco's soft, white skin.

Harry blinked.

Draco's second wild cry hung above them on the nights breeze, the shaking blond now having seized the hand on his face, lips turned fully to Harry's palm, but what truly captured Harry's attention was the pulse of heat so neatly thrust upwards against his throat.

Slowly he pulled back, the hand that had soothed and stroked at Draco's chest and belly sinking lower the press hard against Draco's belt buckle, the heel of Harry's hand flush against the ridge of heat and want pushing beneath the black of Draco's school trousers. Leaning forwards, Harry lay his temple against the damp, abused flesh of Draco's bellybutton as his eyes lingered on his latest discovery.

Draco let his lips slip from Potter's palm, the unbearable hitch and burn of his breath in his lungs too much for the close proximity to Harry's skin and upon glancing downwards, he found himself dumbfounded by the sight of the brunet extending unsteady fingers to the zip of his trousers, wet, red lips, slowly licked in anticipation.

Draco whimpered.

"P, Potter?" he breathed unsteadily as the brunet froze, blinking owlishly in the moonlight, and shaking his head suddenly.

"Potter?" Harry turned his eyes upwards to meet the blond's panicked and urgent eyes before slowly stroking his palm upwards from Draco's groin to chest, rising alongside him until they stood face to face once more.

"Think it's time we tried the fighting thing again?" Harry murmured, blushing as he pulled his spit slick fingers from Draco's grasp.

Draco cleared his throat, as much from disappointment as embarrassment. "Um yeah, I guess so," he muttered, "Time to go get help?"

Harry nodded fervently. "Oh yes," he smiled deprecatingly, "Quickly."

With unsteady fingers Harry reached out to re-button Draco's shirt, eyes fixed on a point between his collarbones.

"Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry muttered, distracted.

"You were about to suck me, weren't you?"

Harry stilled, eyes frozen on his hands on Draco's shirtfront, breathing harsh with shock and Draco was delighted to see a full blush creep up over the Gryffindor's throat and into his face.

Harry lifted his eyes slowly, his blush deepening as he took in Malfoy's smug smile before dropping his gaze back to his task, continuing to button up the shirt and uttering brusquely, "Was thinking about it, yeah."

Draco's smile broke into a smirk, a purr seeming to rise up and outwards from deep in his chest. "Good," he murmured and leaned in to reclaim Harry's mouth with a triumphant growl.

Before Harry could so much as squeak he found himself with a mouthful of eager Slytherin, Draco's tongue pushing through and over his lips, sharp teeth nipping at his tongue in turn and before he knew it he'd backed Draco up against the tree again, hands inside his shirt, thigh between his thighs, murmuring, mewling, crying out, thrusting, whimpering and...

Harry threw himself backwards with enough force to trip and sprawl against the ground, scrambling up and away with a choked laugh of exasperation as he noticed the way the blond smirked as he'd lain helpless on the earth beneath him.

"NO, no," Harry said, shaking a finger at the pouting blond, "No, no, no!"

Draco pushed out his lower lip in a deliberate moue of disappointment. "Well, you're no fun," he pouted.

Harry laughed harshly, stepping forward to gesticulate in wild disbelief, "I thought we were trying to stop? What the FUCK are you playing at?"

The blond shrugged carelessly, "Sorry, Potty, just thought it was the best way to get myself a blowjob fast."

His smirk was roughly pushed aside into alarm as Harry shoved him backwards, his spine connecting hard with the trunk. "Actually," Harry glared, fluttering his hands at where he'd torn the buttons off Draco's shirt in his haste to reopen it, "I think you'll find that's the best way to get yourself fucked against a tree, Malfoy."

Draco gaped, astounded by the vehemence in Potter's tone and affronted by the offhand assumption that he would allow such an event to occur.

"Oh, I _don't_ think so, Potter," he spat, shoving back at the snarling Gryffindor only to find said git an immovable object.

"I do." Harry slid a purposeful, and admittedly, more muscular thigh between Draco's and raised his brows in challenge, not disappointed when Draco heaved his body weight forwards, face pressed close and snarling into the Gryffindor's.

"In your dreams, you disfigured freak."

Harry smiled, a thin line of mockery in his usually gentle countenance.

"Hey, I'm only finishing what you started, Malfoy."

"I was only after a blowjob, scarhead!"

Harry leaned in slightly, tilting so that his lips moved directly over the sensitive flesh of Draco's earlobes, "Now how was I supposed to suck your cock with your tongue in my mouth, Draco? Didn't think of that, now did you?"

Draco wasn't sure which he took greater exception to, the mocking, snide tone of Potter's voice or the sinful fizz of want his lips against his ear created.

"Fuck. You," he seethed, shaking his head to force Potter away, stiffening as he noticed the light gleaming in Harry's eyes at his words.

He struggled, feeling distinctly ill at ease with the Gryffindor abruptly in control and gasped in horror as sudden, shamed arousal burst through when Harry seized his wrists and held them hard against the tree, Draco's struggles reduced to no more than wild writhing against Harry's body.

"Gladly," the Gryffindor murmured and Draco whimpered in fright, only to find the brunet had released his wrists and had stepped a pace or two backwards.

"Thing is, Draco," Potter began, face flushed with anger and something that looked a little like guilt, or rather what Draco imagined guilt to be, "Thing is, I'm not into rape, so calm down already just... just don't think you can go pressing my buttons just because for one second I thought about going down on you. I'm not myself. You're not yourself. Merlin's beard, we've both already tried the beating each other senseless option tonight, I _really_ think we should skip the prick tease section and go straight to finding the cure now, hmm?"

"Prick tease?" Draco snarled, fighting the shivers at the brunet's confession of considering performing fellatio on him.

"Yup."

"I am NOT a tease, you fucking git, YOU are!"

Harry cocked a brow in such a way that had Draco mentally scrolling through his patented expressions, itching to call him on copyright for that one. "Oh really, Malfoy? Because, of course, straight after I'd finished sucking you off you were just going to _beg_ to return the favour, now weren't you?"

Silence and a severely displeased twist of the mouth were the only response from the Slytherin.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now come on, let's go find bloody Neville so we can sort this out and I never have to think about you in that way again."

"Oh and which way would _that_ be, Potter?" Draco snarled, falling into step beside the now slowly sauntering Gryffindor, "The way where you're itching to blow me or the way you tried to fuck me against my will up against the sodding tree?"

Harry stopped, quickly enough to have Draco slam into what should have been the brunet's back had he not already spun round. A swift hand grabbed at Draco's belt buckle and yanked him that step closer so their mouths nearly met, angry silver eyes now met by knowing green.

"Y'know," he drawled casually, deliberately not flinching as Draco did when the words caused their mouths to brush, "The reason you're angry is because either way you'd have fucking _loved_ it... and you _know_ it."

Draco bared his teeth, mouth parted to let fly his many scathing, raging retorts on that subject, but found himself hastily silenced as Harry nipped swiftly at his lower lip before stepping back, hands in his pockets and a warning look on his face.

"Don't make me prove it," he whispered and Draco swallowed hard, knees weak, nodding before he'd considered his reaction.

Harry walked over to where he'd originally dropped his broom and cloak and they both fell into step again, walking in contemplative silence for a few minutes before Draco abruptly muttered, "I bloody hate you."

Harry grinned at him and winked, "Feel better for saying that, do you?" He laughed before yelping suddenly as Draco's foot shot out and neatly tripped him.

"I do now."

"Now, Neville, stop crying, I told you... everything is going to be fine..."

"Then why did you tie me up?"

Hermione's brow creased in exasperation. She'd been switching between good cop and bad cop for the past half hour, but it wasn't entirely convincing when you had one person playing both roles and, quite frankly, she was starting to feel just a tad schizophrenic.

Neville sniffled miserably. Hermione had been nothing but super mean ever since she'd cast the leg locker curse on him and levitated him down to the Great Hall where she'd set up a charm to shine a blinding light into his eyes at all times, the rest of the hormonal mob standing guard on either side of the door. He whimpered quietly, trying to not cast longing, woeful looks to where he knew Seamus was guarding the other side of the doors. All he wanted to do was forget this entire night, forget how hot and itchy his skin felt watching Harry twist Malfoy's tongue like that, or how tight his throat and chest became whenever Hermione waved her wand at him with that look in her eye.

A cool breeze from the windows wafted over his tear damp skin and he shivered, wishing he could wrap his arms about himself for warmth, but Hermione had spelled them to the arms of the chair in order to better his concentration.

It was all rather pointless really. He had less than no idea why the spell had reacted quite that way, it certainly didn't mention anything like that happening in the directions, but then it had only been intended for one person so...

Neville trembled. What if the outcome was permanent? What if because of him, Harry had to snog Malfoy like that for always? He squirmed lightly in his chair, hoping Hermione wouldn't notice how tight his trousers had just become, biting his lip as the notion struck him that he was quite possibly enjoying his friend's misfortune.

He quickly replayed the vision of Harry's _misfortune_ through his mind and for the first time that night, he felt a glimmer of hope, recalling Harry's ecstatic moans as Malfoy ground their groins together. Perhaps Harry might forgive him after all?

He smiled happily, eyes cast at his feet, wondering if maybe after he'd apologised to Harry and everyone had become used to them rutting in public then perhaps Harry and Malfoy might let Neville watch. He shivered, skin very tight and hot across his body as he reflected that maybe Seamus might want to watch, too... maybe they could even watch it _together_?

"And what are you smiling at, Neville?"

Neville's spirits came crashing down.

"N... nothing, Hermione. I was just thinking."

Hermione glared at him, skin aglow with frustration and suspicion. "Oh really? Well I should certainly hope so, Neville, after all you've been of no real help so far." She leaned down, invading Neville's personal space and breathing hotly against his face, smoothing his hair away with a too firm hand. "And you do _want_ to help us, don't you, Nev?" she crooned, making Neville shake and shudder with unease.

"Oh, umm of course, course I do, Hermione... I uhm I'm just not sure how..."

Hermione rolled her eyes in her mind, biting down on every harsh retort that poured into her brain, patting his arm in an effort to not wrench it off.

"Well, Nev, Neville, my good dear lovely Neville... if you would only tell me exactly which spell and/or potion you used, well then that would be simply tremendous and... Neville, why are you crying?"

Neville's pudgy shoulders heaved and rocked as he dipped his head towards his chest. "But you don't understand," he wailed, "The spell was only meant to hit just one person, it was never meant to react this way, Hermione, I can't tell you how it ended up like this, I only know that there was blue smoke when there should have been green and from there everything is just madness and kissing and touching and before long there'll be puppy's being kicked everywhere and it's all my fault and my Gran'll kill me for sure..." He trailed off, sobbing too hard to breathe or speak, hot, quick tears pouring down his cheeks.

Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands, stalking away a few paces to keep from shaking the distraught boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm just, just, so... so... sorry..."

A warm palm rested gently on Neville's shoulder and Hermione rounded in complete shock as the gentle voice pervaded through the disconsolate wails bouncing around the Great Hall.

"It's ok, Neville, it'll be alright, I promise."

"H, Harry?"

Draco pouted, the affect somewhat lost due to the tragic fact of his invisibility, but he felt it his right to be suitably annoyed and yes, alright, were he to be perfectly honest, thoroughly peeved.

Not only had Potter bested him out in the forest, first by spotting the connections between their behaviour and the blasted spell, but also by being the best able to fight off the affects. Draco, however, to his extreme chagrin, still burned and pulsed with persisting lust for the bespectacled little twat.

His body throbbed and shook when he recalled the slow, deliberate interest in Potter's eyes as he'd stroked pensive fingers over the fastenings of his trousers, setting a war between the pulsating, wondrous craving in his gut and the urgent, desperate need to best Potter, to beat him or just, gods, just once match him in any way possible.

He watched Potter sneaking up to the open windows of the Great Hall, slipping in when Hermione turned her back for just a moment, the cluster of students milling at the closed doors too absorbed in their own hopes for the unlikely pair's capture to notice the Gryffindor sidle over to the apparently bound cause of their affliction.

He'd been squinting at Potter's bloody enchanted map for at least a quarter of an hour now, watching Potter creep forward, forward until finally he slunk into the Hall. He would have left his precious Firebolt outside the windows, Draco knew, for they had decided that Draco could not carry both the cloak and the broom whilst closely monitoring the map and now he was stuck with the arduous task of standing, impatient and nauseous as he listened to the varying lecherous theories spouted by Finnegan and his cronies as they guarded the doors to the Hall from without.

He watched as Potter stayed close, the blasted and wholly envied map displaying him as crouched, hunkered down beside the prone prat, apparently still sobbing upon the appearance of his heroic housemate. With any luck, Potter would be able to win over his friends, either of them would do. If they could convince Longbottom to flee with them then the spell could be undone or, failing that, there was a slim possibility that without both of them as a enticement before her that Granger might yet see sense and come their aid, but frankly Draco doubted it. He smothered a snort, too close to give vent to his scorn, he'd seen the look in Granger's eyes before, it was the same crazed look his father wore when discussing the day he would receive his rewards from Voldemort. Draco sighed, attempting to further keep his father from his mind. He knew his father was more about the thrill of power than he was about the cause, but that would not prevent him from following said cause to the bitter end if he believed it would grant him the high position and power he so desired as a reward.

Something in Draco's gut lurched and fell at this thought. His father would be rewarded for Potter's demise, and then Draco would be left alone and Potter... Potter would be...

He shook his head fiercely, wincing as the action caused the cloak to whisper, stirring faintly, thankfully beyond the sight of the hormonal horde, trembling at the sudden awful idea of a world without Potter. Such a thought seemed impossible yet he knew it to the greatest wish of his father's master. An expected surge of hatred rocked him, his bones aching with an odd clenching desire to hurt enemies, formerly his allies, protect him who they'd all so despised, and it left him queasy and light-headed in the light of such a rush of feeling.

The spell. Obviously, the spell had made more of an impression upon him than he had realised. It had reformed his opinions and beliefs, swayed him towards the only person he had ever truly despised in his lifetime, made him cherish what previously he had... Draco's brow furrowed. Had he ever truly wanted Potter dead? Did he want him hurt and bleeding, lost at the hands of the Dark Lord? Surely he must have desired it once or else why would he have hated him so? His memory was faltering under the influence of whatever warped curse had been flung at him by that oaf Longbottom. That had to be the problem. His senses were so clouded by this mad fixation with the Gryffindor that he could no more fathom his former hatred than he could his current...

He blushed, mind as close to saying 'love' as it was 'lust', neither word being of any comfort to the pensive Slytherin.

He shuffled, glaring again at the map he had less than no intention of returning, impatient and uneasy.

Potter should have had the doors open by now.

"H, Harry?"

Neville had stammered his name in shock, shuddering further yet beneath Harry's hand as he laid it on his shoulder before dissolving into yet more heart-rending sobs, attempting to twist around in his bonds to better weep against his friend.

Hermione, however, displayed no such sentimental joy at his appearance.

"Where is he?" she'd barked, striding forwards to shove imperiously at Harry's shoulder with one hand, her other better occupied by prodding her wand into the underside of Harry's jaw.

"Who?" Harry had squeaked more from alarm than from any form of deceit or distraction tactic.

"Malfoy," she spat, her eyes shooting daggers dipped in arsenic and coated with razorblades, "Last time we saw you both, you were joined at groin and mouth and now he's nowhere to be seen, what's going on, Harry? Where is he?"

"Ummm," Harry patted Neville on the back in an absent-minded fashion, eyes flickering over to the blocked doorway and back to Hermione's deeply suspicious face, "We, uhm, we fell out."

A perfectly plucked if threateningly bushy eyebrow jerked upwards.

"Do you _really_ expect me to believe that, Harry?"

"Ummm, yes?" he quipped, smiling hopefully.

The wand jabbed deeper into the underside of his throat, pinching painfully into the tender flesh there as Harry grimaced. "Umm no, " he amended swiftly, "Did I mention that I really meant _no_ just then?"

Hermione sneered at him and Harry was forcibly put in mind of the unseen blond just beyond the doors, waiting to be granted entrance. Harry stifled a wince as he reflected that neither would thank him for the sudden recognition of such a profound similarity between the two.

"Then, dear Harry, if you're answer is 'no' then you still have yet to answer my question... I suggest you do so. With all due haste." Harry hissed, eyes narrowed on his significantly disturbed friend, as the wand tip seemed determine to break through into his mouth and up through his skull.

Neville whimpered at his side and Harry nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief as he recalled his 'mission'. He needed to free Neville. If he could just keep Hermione talking then he could free Neville and then, somehow, Draco needed to get through those doors. But one problem at a time.

"Merlin's beard, Herm, get off me a second. What have you done to poor Neville?"

Wrenching his head from the wand's prodding pain, Harry stooped, his hands busy unbinding Neville's arms and legs from the sturdy confines of the chair.

Hermione pouted, folding her arms sulkily, and again Harry forced back a grin at the resemblance.

"We were just having a brief chat on the subject of unknown curses and potions, weren't we, Neville?" she prevaricated, smiling with hard eyes at the poor, exceptionally nervous boy who merely whimpered in response.

"Yeah. Sure thing." Harry grinned wryly, loosening the bonds at Neville's ankles as the chubbier Gryffindor rubbed feeling back into his sore wrists. Harry patted his knee, soothingly, and nearly started as an idea, not a good one, but an idea nonetheless, happened upon him.

"Poooor Nev," he crooned softly, rubbing his palm in circles over Neville's substantial knee, "What has she done to you, mate? Hmm? Pooooor Neville."

Hermione watched this odd interlude with a suspicious gaze, her eyes betraying confusion but none of the fear and bewilderment as shown by the poor individual himself. "Harry," she began in a menacing, inquisitive tone, "Where did you say Malfoy was?"

Harry continued to smile gently, stroking casually at Neville's knee and lower thigh before affecting a start, a confused blink before responding with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Oh I don't know, we got to the other side of the lake, fought a bit, kissed a bit and then all I could think of, all he could think of, was how this could have happened, how it occurred and then," Harry smiled adoringly up at Neville, clamping down on the guilt that bubbled in him at the surprise and almost pleasure in his clumsy friend's eyes, "We both knew, somehow, that it was you and we both started hurrying back only, " a shy smile here, false modesty as he glanced downwards to break Neville's gaze, "Only I had my broom, so I'm here first I, I was faster, Nev, I found you first."

Neville blinked owlishly, "But... but why? Why hurry?"

Harry swallowed, hoping to high heaven that the gaping crowd by the doors were watching, and let his hand steal upwards to cup a rounded, hamster-like cheek.

"Harry..." Hermione growled warningly although for her sake or for Neville's Harry wasn't sure, "Harry!"

He fought to keep his mind blank, to keep it wiped clean of guilt and misgiving, but even as he knelt up, eyes flickering closed with relief, he saw bright blond hair, brighter eyes and a slash of blood red lips in a face the colour of moonlight.

Harry sighed, trying and failing to not relish the image and so, surrendering to the vision, he kissed Neville.

At the first squeal of surprise from within the hall the crowds without stood still and listened in desperate hope for sounds signalling the restart of the night's prior events and Draco tensed in anticipation.

At the first scream of shock, the first outright cry of 'Harry's kissing Neville!' Draco saw red.

The doors swung wide just seconds before Draco stormed forward, pushing past the streaming horde of gawking students led by an outraged and apparently wounded Finnegan.

"Neville," the Irish boy whispered faintly and stopped in the centre of the room.

"POTTER!" Draco bellowed, charging to within mere feet of where the brunet knelt kissing an apparently petrified Longbottom.

Draco tore off the cloak, striding forwards to seize Potter by the shoulder.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" he hollered, dragging the oddly smug looking brunet to his feet.

"Hullo, Draco," Harry smiled, blushing faintly as Hermione beamed maniacally at the Slytherin's apparent jealous rage, Neville passing out with a terrified whimper towards the snarling blond. "Sorry, Nev," Harry murmured before hauling the overcome boy upright. Taking a firm hold of the silenced and sagging Neville, Harry winked at a suddenly comprehending Hermione before holding his wand aloft. "Accio Firebolt!" he yelled and with barely more than a whip of wind and magic the broom was before them.

Hermione screamed, the crowd gasped in horror, Seamus smothered a sob of dismay and with a grunt of exertion from clasping two other boys to him, Harry leapt onto his broom and burst away, through the open doors and out into the night sky.

The Firebolt creaked and groaned with effort, barely making it twenty feet off the ground and moving at a decidedly sluggish pace by comparison to its usual speed. Harry tutted sadly and smoothed his clasping fingers over the wood handle. "There, there baby," he crooned gently, "Just a little farther away and I promise we'll all get off and let you recover."

Draco watched as Hermione burst from the school, followed closely by the rabid masses and sighed, he had an arm wrapped about both Potter and his unconscious and apparently vengeful friend and already it was obvious that the broom was lagging. But there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Potter!" Draco yelled and Harry craned his head round, close enough for their faces to be mere inches away as they both clung onto the prone boy and each other. Draco snarled and pressed his face closer still to the inquisitive and shocked looking brunet. "You complete and total bastard!" he yelled, words whipped about him in the night air, but apparently the Gryffindor heard him, an amused grin shining back at him.

"Jealous, were we?" Harry shouted back with far too much awareness and downright smugness for Draco's peace of mind. He sought for an adequate response in his mind.

"Fuck yes!" Draco roared back, and mashed their lips together with as little dignity as possible, pulling back with a groan at the ecstatic cheer from below.

Harry blushed and grinned in, what seemed to the thoroughly, he'd decided, spell addled Slytherin, to be a completely endearing fashion, straightening the abruptly tilting broom and tightening his grip upon the blond.

"Later," he mouthed and blushed harder, realising that with Neville aboard there would be no need for later, but still Draco grinned and smirked back before turning to check a suddenly stirring Neville.

Neville groaned and hoped briefly against hope that the arms around him were Seamus' before daring to let his eyelids flicker and open.

Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was looking down at him, holding him, apparently kidnapping him via broomstick.

"Oh," Draco drawled, releasing his hold on Potter to turn to steady Neville, "You're awake."

"Yes," smiled Neville, only it was not a smile because, half-awake, half-asleep and at least fully conquered by the night's events, Neville was not quite himself.

"Yes," he said again, and promptly pushed Draco off of the broom.

"No!" Harry cried, desperately trying to wheel about on the hopelessly overused broom and Neville blinked in confusion at his friend's apparent distress, "Draco, NO!"

And so Draco found himself, most unpleasantly, tumbling into the night once more from yet another great height, but this time it was excusable for Draco to scream because this time no one followed Draco down to save him and so he plummeted, helpless, eyes wide and focused on Harry's horrified face, the Gryffindor's anguished cries echoing after him down into the darkness.

TBC


	7. Humbled Part 7

Humbled: Part 7

Draco had, quite frankly, had better nights.

True he'd spent a rather large part of the night with his tongue sensuously intertwined with a seemingly irresistible boy hell-bent on devouring him whole, but then, the time spent without Potter's lips on his, Potter's hands roaming his body, and the god-damned taste of Potter in his mouth, had been mostly filled with terror and sudden plunges into darkness.

When he weighed the pros and cons of the night against each other, he found the cons ever so slightly outweighed the pros… of course, he had no doubt things might have been different had he not been right smack dab in the middle of the worst con so far that evening.

He was higher than before. He could tell that by the way his body twisted and spiralled in the night air, what he had hoped could be a split second two foot tumble stretching into the length of a full blooded scream from both him and Potter as he fell the seemingly countless distance to the ground.

"Draco! Draco, NO!"

Dimly he could see a shape twisting in the air above him and with a smothered, nearly ignored glimmer of delight, he realised it was Potter, diving, dropping, clumsy upon his broom with the extra weight of Longbottom slowing his hopeless attempt to save the Slytherin.

Longbottom. He had pushed him, pushed him out into the sky. Had Draco not been arrowing towards the earth he would have smiled. Potter, in his current falsely enamoured state at least, would not be pleased.

"Draco! Malfoy! Malfoy!"

Potter's frantic scream held real terror now and suddenly the wind wasn't whistling quite as keenly as it coursed over Draco's flailing limbs and he tensed. He was closer to the ground now, closer…. Closer…

"Quem Pessum Exorior!"

A blast of magic surrounded him as he collided hard with the ground, the impact that should have shattered his bones springing him back upwards several feet into the air to fall once, then twice back against the now solid grass. His breath whistled from his lungs in shock and relief, eyes finally coming to settle, as his body rocked and stilled, upon the figure brandishing a wand above him.

"Stand up, Malfoy. Now."

Granger.

Draco, heart bursting in his throat, slowly pulled himself to his feet, eyes trained on the wand so carefully levelled at him.

"Draco? Oh thank god… that was amazing, Herm, like a trampoline, I…"

Potter, ground to a halt just behind the still shaking Slytherin, held his hands up in horror as the wand shot up to point squarely at his chest.

"Herm? What are you, uhh, doing?"

Draco made as though to back away from the bizarrely threatening girl only to find himself on the end of far too many wands for his liking as Granger's groupies clustered together, ready to obey her every psychotic whim.

"Harry, bring Neville. We're all going inside _now_." Neville whimpered and Draco marvelled at this being the same boy who had mere moments before sent him plunging to his doom, watching as Harry tightened his grip on the pudgy boy's forearm at the menace in Hermione's tone.

"Why? What do you want, Hermione?"

A dry, humourless chuckle did nothing to detract from Hermione's distinct Dark Witch persona. "Oh, Harry, you know what I want and you know why I need Neville, too, otherwise you wouldn't have tried to take him. Now, we're all going inside and you two are going to get back to eating each other alive and I'm going to watch."

Neville whimpered again and Draco's eyes narrowed as he noted that bloody Irish boy, Finnegan, impulsively step forward at the sound.

"But you don't need Nev to watch us, Herm, what else are you up to?"

A Grinch-esque smile spread across the frenzied feminine features. "I need him, Harry, to be there to make sure, if whatever you're cursed with wears off, that I will have been taught precisely how to recapture the affect… perhaps I can even improve it, make it permanent…"

Harry swallowed and his eyes flickered to Draco's briefly, oddly hurt at the stricken look on the blond's face, unaware that the look accompanied Draco's realisation that the effects truly were temporary. Draco couldn't explain it, but for that brief second on the broom before Longbottom had pushed him and Harry had been smiling back at him, rich with promise and purpose he'd felt… happy. Now there would be no flying back out into the woods together, triumphant and ready to end the spell. He'd known it would end but he had thought, or rather hoped maybe, that perhaps… maybe it wouldn't end, just for a little while longer, just long enough to…

It was of no matter now. Granger was going to march them back into the castle and true enough there'd be kissing, most likely groping, too, but now it really would be because of the spell and not… well... It was all because of the spell and he'd been a fool to consider the possibility of it being anything else. And now it looked to become permanent, glued to Potter via hot kisses and such without the slightest shred of actual want because they'd be forced to do. It wouldn't be real. Draco's shoulders sagged suddenly. It had never been real.

"No."

All eyes shot to Harry.

"No way, Herm. You're crazy, worse than me and Malfoy, if you think I'll let you do this." Harry took a step backwards, his own wand drawn and pointed towards Hermione, as he pulled Neville with him.

"I really don't see how you have a choice, Harry. I've got Malfoy… you won't leave without him, don't even pretend that you would, so all I need do is stupefy you and…"

"You _really_ think you can outcast me, Herm?" Harry tilted his head in seeming amusement, watching as his slightly deranged friend pursed her lips, "And even if you could, what's to stop Neville here from bolting? No. This won't work… at least not this way…"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, suddenly you think you've got better ideas than me, Harry? Suck some of Malfoy's brains out with his tongue did you?"

Draco's hand twitched at his sides and he ached to slap the smug look from that bloody _filthsome_ girl's face. How dare she say such a thing to Harry… not only was it HIS job, but all he could see now was the flash of pleasure on the Boy Wonder's face when Draco had insisted he wasn't stupid before.

Harry, to his credit, hadn't even vaguely flinched at his friend's easy abuse of his intellect, but merely stood his ground apparently as steadfast as his reputation told and, to Draco's obviously addled eyes, bizarrely appealing.

"You've got Draco, Hermione," Harry began, seemingly impervious to the tremor of excitement that ran through the gathered hormone crazed teens at his careless use of the Slytherin's given name, "and I have Neville." He punctuated these last words by tightening his grip on the distressed boy's arm even further, his eyes drifting near imperceptibly to Seamus, as Neville shrank yet further at his side.

"Y'see, Herm, this way, with our, ah, current hostages, it won't work. Not for either of us."

Granger's brow furrowed and Draco felt something creeping under his skin that twitched and tempted the corners of his lips upwards despite his mind's desperate urges, his eyes locked on the sudden and slight narrowing of Potter's own bright gaze. He'd seen that look before, at least twice that night. Shivering slightly as he realised that both times had preceded the Gryffindor's lips on his, he crossed his arms and waited. If nothing else, he'd learned that Potter truly was a remarkable adversary.

"Go on," Granger muttered, her usually brilliant mind dulled by her seething hormones, as she kept her wand trained on her tricky friend.

"I have Neville, but you want him in order to recreate whatever's done this to me & Malfoy there. You have Malfoy…" He actually blushed and Draco fought back the impulse to surge forward and let his tongue trace the blush sailing high on Potter's cheekbones, "and _I_ want him." Another shimmy of delight ran through the groupies. "Ideally, we each want both… but that's not happening."

Hermione twitched slightly, brain working furiously in desperation to find fault with Harry's evaluation. True enough he had Neville, but she had Malfoy _and_ the band to back her up should he make a break for it… but what if Harry outcast her? He could and would, she knew it, and though she had faith that perhaps one of others might be able to stop Harry from fleeing with Malfoy, would they take the time to de-stupefy her or whatever before hauling the boys off to watch them shag? Would she, in their shoes? Hell no.

"What is it that you're proposing, Harry? Spit it out before I lose patience and let the mob here curse your boyfriend so his tongue tastes like butober pus."

Draco shuddered before grinning as Harry mirrored his actions, distaste written plainly across his face.

"Ok, Herm, remind me to not ever cross you once you're, Ahhh… well, you again. Anyway… you want Neville to do whatever he did again, and I want Malfoy back… just in case you decide to try that pus/tongue thing out. Couldn't be simpler really. We just swap."

"Swap?" squeaked Neville in terror.

"Swap?" intoned Hermione in deeply suspicious tones.

"Swap," repeated Draco, sudden images of escape and near immediate clinches with the Boy Who Lived to Taste Surprisingly Good flavouring his tone with appreciation.

"Swap," reiterated Harry, smug as the obviousness had apparently escaped his brainy friend, the smile fading from his face as her eyes glittered feverishly above an all too toothy smile.

"Oh, I don't think so, Harry. You really think I'd fall for that, actually just hand him right over? What do you take me for? You'd take him and Neville then I'm out on both counts. Oh yes, I certainly see why you'd think that was the solution!"

Harry's face was suddenly granite-like and Draco had the urge to slap himself for the delightful shiver that coursed through him at the sheer disdain in Potter's eyes. He'd been right before, he _was_ sick… but at least it was sort of fun.

"I'll give you Neville," Harry's voice was toneless yet firm, his eyes somehow conveying his disappointment in his friend, "You'll give me Draco. No tricks, no reneging, no wands, no nothing."

Hermione stepped from foot to foot, uneasy. "And that's supposed to convince me? You say you won't try anything and that's that?"

The entire crowd, Draco, Neville and Hermione included all caught their collective breath, as Harry seemed to gain at least five inches in height, his spine stiffening in offence, insult brightening his eyes yet further. "You have my word, Hermione. As a Gryffindor, you have it. What more do you need?" His words dripped with recrimination and Draco delighted in the bookworm's slight shrink beneath her friend's displeasure.

"Your word?" She was suddenly a great deal less imperious and Neville seemed to visibly relax under the protection of the seeming dragon slayer.

"You have it." Harry nodded and even before Draco had time to process the events he was being propelled towards the brunet, Granger's wand almost sticking through his spine until Potter's gentle 'tut-tut' had her retreating a step or so.

He was within a step of Harry when that odd light shone in the green depths again, tingles shooting from Draco's toes to the roots of his somehow still perfect hair and before he had time to consider the possibility of Potter's being up to something, Potter had him.

Harry had simply surged forward, one arm sliding tightly about Draco's waist and literally jerking him up against him, his head at that perfect angle that let his tongue slide deep into the Slytherin's absurdly willing mouth, silencing Draco's shocked but pleased gasp with his own lips.

The other gasps, however, were of such a volume that deep in the heart of the forbidden forest the inhabitants grumbled and bitched about those troublesome teenagers ruining the neighbourhood.

It was with a definite sagging effect that had Draco clinging to Potter's disturbingly respectable biceps and an even more disturbingly erotic, slick noise that Harry separated their mouths, daring to dart a smugly triumphant smile towards the onlookers.

"Fool me once - shame on you, fool me twice…."

Hermione's smile was perhaps ten times as smug as Harry's, but the triumph in his eyes dimmed not a jot at her mocking tone.

"Did you really think I'd fall for that twice, Harry? Let myself get so caught up in watching that I'd freeze, let you escape again?"

Harry's arm was still about Draco's waist so the blond was all too aware of the movements of the rest of the Gryffindor's body, noting silently that the brunet had somehow worked his wand into his hand. He blinked in surprise as he realised Harry must have done it during the kiss and was aware of something close to awe. Potter definitely had his Slytherin moments.

"Herm, I wasn't trying to fool or freeze you, I promise."

Hermione softened, just ever so slightly, at the innocent and earnest response from her friend, but Draco heard and saw something entirely different.

I wasn't trying to fool or freeze _you_...

Draco had been only halfway into his crossing from Granger to Harry when the brunet had leapt forward and all but seized his mouth and everything had just stopped, there and then.

Including Longbottom.

Neville had only made it barely two quaking steps to Draco's more self assured if suspicious strides and had barely made it level with the blond when the pair had begun their impromptu embrace and had been frozen, fixated, from that point onwards.

Just as Harry planned it.

At the exact same moment that this realisation struck both Draco and Hermione, Harry had lashed one arm into the back of Draco's robes, leapt forward with the Slytherin in tow to Neville's side and (to the shock of all) stupefied Hermione.

"For fucks sake RUN!" Harry yelled, grabbing hold of Neville's clammy hand and bolting out away from the vague lights of the castle, releasing Draco just long enough to hold high his wand, shrieking again for his trusty Firebolt.

"Potter, this didn't work all that well last time!" Draco bellowed as he ran, too rushed and breathless to glare at the blundering and obviously bewildered boy lumbering slightly to their rear.

"You got a better idea!" Harry bellowed right back, ears straining for the whisper of his broom swinging up alongside them.

"Yeah! Ditch Butterball!"

Harry screeched to a halt, pulling Draco to a standstill alongside him, yanking him round so they stood nearly nose to nose, Neville panting to a stop behind them.

"Look, I know he's not exactly done a lot tonight to endear himself to you, but I wouldn't leave you and I won't leave him either!"

"Potter..." Draco started when a loud crash to their rear punctuated the impending arrival of their pursuers and, to the surprise of all three breathless boys, Seamus Finnegan burst, solo, from the bushes, ahead of his peers, wand brandished high and fixed on Harry.

"You're not takin' Nev, Harry! I won't let you!"

Harry blinked, Neville gaped and Draco felt Harry's beloved broom nudge it's handle against the backs of his legs, still hidden by the cloak draped over it as with nothing short of a roar of fury, Hermione and followers burst into view.

Draco made an executive decision.

Snatching at the rich fabric swept over the smooth wood handle, he flung the excess material up over Harry and himself, Neville simply too many steps (and frankly too much effort) to include in this, the new escape plan. Fortunately Potter caught on quickly and swung his leg over the broom, taking the time to scream _Expelliarmus_ towards his raging friend before she had time to Accio the cloak, broom or even him to her side.

They swung up and off, back into the night, Draco twisted oddly behind Potter to hold his wand up, ready (SO ready) to hurl hexes should the need arise when Finnegan leapt forward to clasp Longbottom tight against him.

"God," Harry abruptly called back, a Gryffindor guilt trip already taking hold, "I left Neville."

"Don't worry about Longbottom," Draco replied, settling his chin against Harry's shoulder, "He'll be just fine."

Neville found himself seized, swung away from where he heard the whoosh and swoop of Harry flying away into the night without him.

"He, he left me?" he whispered in anguished tones of disbelief, blinking huge eyes unseeingly for a moment into his _captor's_ face, "He said he wouldn't leave me behind..."

"Don' you worry yer head, Nev," Seamus crooned, all thick Irish brogue as the stunned wizard shook in his arms, finally realising just who held him, "Ol' Seam's gotcha now, ain't nothin' going t'get you with me here… Not even our Herm, k?"

"S…Seamus?" Neville gasped, breathless with hope and the warm body holding him close.

The taller boy found himself blushing at the wide-eyed reverence beaming up at him, and let a smile tilt his lips upwards. "Aye, Nev, it's Seamus. I've got you."

Encumbered by its prior load and somewhat extreme ill use, Harry's Firebolt rather sulkily set down in a clearing not too far from the castle, rhythmically jerking here and there as if to protest its all too frequent passengers and abrupt dives.

Harry staggered off immediately upon landing, yanking the cloak from over them in fitful snatches, leaning on a tree, nearly doubled over with guilt.

"I… I can't believe I left him…" he whispered, starting when a hand settled awkwardly on his shoulder.

"Potter, stop freaking out, it's fine. That Finnegan had him in hand when we were flying off and going by the way he was watching him earlier, I reckon Granger's got about as much chance of harming him as she did out-casting you." He grinned appreciatively. "By the way… Nice."

Harry spun round, eyes fixed on the apparently heartless (and why was he even surprised?) Slytherin. "I left Neville behind, I said I wouldn't and I _did_!"

Draco didn't budge, refused to let the Gryffindor's bizarre and seemingly overactive sense of guilt push him away from his prize, his newly discovered and bewilderingly enjoyable partner in crime.

"Potter," he placed hands on the brunet's shoulders to twist him round to face him, "You tried to take him with us, chances are he'd have broken free or tried to off me again, but the point is, yeah, ok, it didn't work but you did try to take him, take us both with you."

Harry began to shake his head, remorse written plainly across his features only stilled when (against character) Draco lifted a hand to soothe and calm the Gryffindor, cupping his jawline to draw their eyes together.

"Potter, you did everything you could - you were even sneaky and deceitful. In my books, you covered pretty much everything… you even lied to Granger, did I mention 'Bravo'?"

Harry smiled weakly, pulling away to go and snatch up his debilitated broom, smoothing the quivering handle with an absent palm. "Actually, I didn't _just_ lie, I broke my word… a MUCH bigger deal by Gryffindor standards. I'll probably be banned from the Tower after this is all done with."

Draco leaned against a tree, liking the way he could casually lean, elegantly propped while his libido jerked and spasmed over the patch of skin showing at Potter's nape, the opening of his shirt, the brunet's gaze still firmly fixed upon his broom.

"Yeah, got to say it, Potter, even I was surprised at that… especially considering I've put myself in your hands solely based on the strength of your _word of a Gryffindor_."

Harry grinned, shooting a blushing glance up through his lashes at the mention of the blond putting himself 'in his hands', shrugging loosely, "Yeah, well… I was running short on reckless Gryffindor ingenuity, ok? It was all I could think of."

Turning, he gathered up his cloak and swept it up over his shoulder, the rich fabric swinging, a fold or two turned invisible side out so that it seemed a swathe of night had been cut through the Boy Who Lived, now slowly walking away into the darkness.

"Anyway, you coming then, Malfoy? We've got a decent head-start, but not a great one."

Draco pushed away from the trunk and strode (as nonchalantly as possible) forward to catch up with the Gryffindor.

"It's good enough, Potter. Your girl's all about deep thought and strategy. By now she should have figured out that she can't catch us so her best bet is to just cut her losses on this cycle of whatever the hell is wrong with us then catch us once she gets Longbottom to teach her how to do it again. Or worse, make it permanent."

Harry shuddered. "Poor Neville," he whispered.

"Yeah," Draco sympathised, trying to suppress the sudden lurch of gratification that rose up at the realisation that Potter wasn't shivering in repulsion over the idea of their being permanently bound to each other in this, their warped passion.

He coughed, trying to push away the thought of him and Potter still together at the end of the year, bickering and bitching up onto the Hogwarts Express, then dragging each other up into empty compartments to… to… Well, perhaps the least thought about that the better.

"Anyway," Draco ground out, dispelling images of being languidly sucked off in one of the closet-like lavatories aboard the train, "What were you up to, anyway? I mean, aside from giving you the chance to be a bad, baaaaaad Gryffindick," this earned him the finger, "what was the point? You could have disappeared into the night with Longbottom, even got him to fix whatever it is he's bloody hexed us with… after hopefully smacking the chubby little shit for shoving me, I hope." That earned him a hefty smack on the arm himself.

"Don't be bloody stupid, Malfoy."

"What? You mean you wouldn't even have bollocked the twat for sending me earthbound? Gee, thanks a big bunch, Potter!"

Harry stopped, Draco smacking unceremoniously into his back before shuffling back as the brunet turned to face him.

"Don't," Harry growled, the seriousness belied by an odd twinkle in his eyes, scarily Dumbledore-esque in its brightness.

"Don't what?" Draco was breathless. He hated that. Fortunately he rather suspected that Potter liked it and, crazily enough, he liked that Potter liked it enough to sort of not hate it. Not _that_ much anyway.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"But… I don't?" He bit his lip to keep from smiling, vaguely light headed as Potter took the step forward that brought them nearly nose to nose once more.

"I wasn't talking about punishing Neville for pushing you. You know that."

"So…what, then?"

Harry swiped his tongue over his lower lip, shamelessly enjoying the way the Slytherin's eyes narrowed at the action. "You're really saying you don't know why I wanted to swap you for Neville?"

"I, I don't know, I just… why? I mean, why do it, if your _word_ is such a big deal and you weren't planning to actually give him up then, y'know… why?" Draco flushed, biting his lip even harder now at his lack of eloquence and instantly captivated when a deep blush spread from Potter's throat upwards.

Harry shrugged, the loose, casual gesture completely belied by the quick ignition in his eyes and suddenly his mouth was close, too close, to Draco's once more. "There are just some things," he whispered, breath hot on Draco's skin, "that are worth breaking your word for." He let his lips catch briefly against the Slytherin's before stepping back and turning away once more.

"I just never figured it'd be over you."

Draco stopped in his tracks.

"Uhm… excuse me?"

His heart had already been doing an intricate two-step within his ribcage at the quick kiss the gittish Gryffindor had pressed upon him, having only barely registered the words before their full meaning hit him.

Harry turned, walking backwards as he continued on his path away from the school itself, "Oh, I don't mean it offensively, y'know. It's just I always thought if I ever was going to break my word - and I really wasn't going to - then I'd do it over something… excusable? Y'know, Dark Lord, Dementor, Death Eater, et cetera." He smiled almost ruefully, "Can't say as I ever thought it'd be because I couldn't stand the thought of not having you with me."

He blushed darkly, kicking himself mentally for even having let the words slip out, turning and facing out into the forest, unaware of Draco's lowered, rather _dropped_ jaw.

"You… you _actually_ broke your word…for me?" Draco's breath whistled in his chest and Harry grimaced as he let regret tinge the warm, tingly feeling that had chased the actual admission from his lips.

"Yes, Malfoy," he sighed long-sufferingly, "I broke my word for you."

Now, different things affect different people in different ways. In most cases, for example, you would not purchase a bunch of flowers for a man and expect him to gush all over the place ooey gooey gratitude. Similarly no Hufflepuff would thank you for a charm to help cheat your friends and enemies or a Gryffindor appreciate a textbook on the finer points of studying for your Newts before entering Hogwarts... well, most Gryffindors wouldn't.

However, for Ravenclaws a sure-fire gift would be the aforementioned text (the certain scary, hormonal Gryffindor included) and if you truly wanted to win over a Slytherin… Well.

Draco had always wanted a Gryffindor of his very own. A noble, annoyingly pure one might have done in a pinch, the purest and most noble had obviously been something of a catch even with the whole bloodthirsty fighting, biting, snarling thing, but now? A Gryffindor, the brightest shining greatest Gryffindor to have graced the school probably since Godric himself and because of him, Draco Malfoy, he'd broken his word.

He broke it for him. Him. Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter broke his word for him.

"For me," Draco stated dully, his tone belying the almost painful desire suddenly raging through him and Harry halted, tired now, of the Slytherin's seeming exultation in his downfall.

"Yes, Draco. Alllll for you, ok? Now… mmmff…!"

Harry suddenly very difficult to chastise the Slytherin for his overt interest in Harry's broken promise, in fact breathing was extremely difficult, too, being that said Slytherin was now firmly attached to him at chest, groin and mouth.

Draco wasn't quite sure how he'd come to cross from where he'd been standing to tongue deep in Potter's mouth, but insanely he found nothing had ever felt quite so good - and that included their frequent, bizarre and virtually violent clinches from earlier that evening. All he knew was that Potter had practically de-Gryffindorised himself all for him and that deserved something, the sort of reward you get for the best of achievements, the greatest prize there was: Him.

Stumbling backwards slightly, having dropped broom and cloak in favour of wrapping his arms about the blond currently hanging round his neck while suckling on his tongue and giving him what felt like an intricate upright lapdance, Harry fought for breath - but not that hard.

The brunet's spine connected with a good broad trunk, the sudden impact enough to break the link between their lips, each dragging in a laboured breath and resting their foreheads against the other.

"Potter," Draco breathed, shifting to drop his arms from their deathgrip, flung up about Harry's neck to now sinuously twine about his shoulders, setting Salazaar spinning in his grave by leaning in to nuzzle and murmur softly at Harry's already moistened lips, "kiss me."

Harry's skin was burning up, the Slytherin's body pressed close and molten silver gaze doing alarming things to his equilibrium. "J…just like that? Just 'kiss me'? No fighting, no wordplay, no slowly increasing flirtatious banter? No steadily mounting sexual tension? No…"

"Potter?"

Draco was pressing closer, Harry's hands itching at his sides to seize and clutch at the paler boy's gently curved ass and slim hips, "Y… yeah?"

A elegant white hand lifted to sift through the dark hair falling across his forehead before trailing down to deftly pluck the glasses from Harry's face, shushing his soft noise of distress with another nuzzle, gently placing them in Harry's front shirt pocket before gazing intently into unobstructed and not a little dazed green eyes.

"Harry…" The brunet shivered, hands losing the fight to resist the soft globes of Draco's ass, skin prickling at the use of his given name, delighting in the way the blond's breath caught when his hands clenched on his flesh, words wavering as he continued, a little breathlessly, "Harry… you, you've earned this, earned me… now take what you want."

"What I want?" Harry's palm fitted under the curve of Draco's derriere and lifted, causing the blond to lean forward, up on the balls of his feet, pressing his groin neatly into the Gryffindor's and biting his lip at the smouldering heat already reflected in the emerald depths.

"Anything," Draco rolled his hips none so subtly against the brunet's, "Anything you want, Potter." He let his lower lip catch and cling against Harry's, "Just… take it."

Harry caught on fast - that was one of the things Draco was starting to like about him. The Slytherin's breath left him in a great jubilant 'whoosh' as Harry spun them to crush Draco back against the tree, resuming their position from before, or rather, positions as Potter managed to combine the delightful _against the trunk make out_ with lifting him to wrap his legs a la _up against the tower wall_ about Potter's waist. Potter apparently liked to mix and match, Draco decided, as the Gryffindor abruptly added the heavy lip biting to the clinch as well. Another point in his favour.

At this rate he was going to have to write Mother and ask if he could keep Potter - he'd even exercise and feed him everyday.

All frivolous thoughts of possibly putting a studded leather collar on the Gryffindor, or allowing Potter to do the same to him (ooh, with matching wrist or perhaps handcuffs?) were abruptly banished by the slick stab and slide of the brunet's tongue against his. Harry's hands reached up to untwine his own from about his neck, pressing their hands out, palm to palm, arms stretched out away from their bodies against the tree, spread-eagling Draco so their chests dragged and crushed up against each other, making breathing difficult and coherent thought impossible.

"Fuck yeah, Potter," Draco whimpered despite himself, "take me."

"Yes," Harry ground out, bruising their lips in a searing kiss, "Yes."

Neville was having quite possibly the most unbelievable and life altering night of his life.

He'd thought that he'd forever top the righteous revenge lists by humiliating the boy who'd made his life a misery almost from his first lesson at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy should have been hiding in his dorm by now, so mortified and upset that _finally_ he would know how it felt to be Neville or any other student he'd been so cruel to over the years. Now, instead, he'd not only taken one of Neville's very dearest friends and turned all their worlds topsy-turvy by publicly making out with him, but he'd turned Neville's entire existence so utterly upside down that he thought he might never recover.

He'd watched the slow slide and stroke of Harry's tongue over Malfoy's and it had been as though everything fell into place. Of course after Hermione had him there had been no real time to really consider what the possibility of his being y'know… until now, that is.

Hermione was stalking back and forth, silhouetted by the flames leaping in the imposing fireplace, the proud centrepiece of the Gryffindor common room, her brow furrowed in deep thought yet somehow, Neville couldn't find it in himself to be frightened.

He'd been tenderly lowered onto one of the softest chairs, a huge overstuffed embrace of a chair, large enough to hold two people comfortably. Neville knew this, because he _was_ comfortable, carefully held (but not restrained) within the strong, warm arms of Seamus Finnegan. Seamus had been gently whispering to Neville from the moment Harry had flown away to when Hermione had tried to frog-march him back up to the tower, not that Seamus had let Herm bully him. Far from it. Despite the incessant grilling, the glaring and the overall horror of the night in general, Neville felt cherished and protected within the circle of Seamus' embrace and even had to fight off the glimmer of a smile as those arms tightened protectively about him when Herm suddenly stalked over.

"The basics, Neville. Give me the basics. I know you don't know what the actual outcome should have been, I know it's dependant on the actual person it's set on and I know you don't know why it's done what it's doing. But what is it, what's it made of, how long should it last?"

Neville shrugged loosely, loving the bristle and glare of the Irish boy wrapped so close against the wrath of Hermione.

"I can't tell you most of that, Hermione, I'm truly sorry… I burned the paper so as no one would know it was me afterwards. I, I got it out of a book of Gran's ages back, she gave me a right telling off for even looking at it locked up in the case, I couldn't ever tell her I actually needed to read it _again_… but I do know how long it lasts, Herm. Rather, how long it was supposed to."

Hermione was trembling with the need to understand, to know how to recreate this unexpected effect. "How long, Neville?" she rasped.

Despite Seamus' warm palm gently rubbing circles on his shoulder, Neville bit his lip. "Not this long," he whispered, "Nothing like this long."

Draco's shirt was unbuttoned again, now how had that happened?

If the Slytherin had, perhaps, slightly more blood & oxygen travelling to his brain, he might have realised that Harry's busy hands upon his body were easily capable of being the culprits of his semi-nudity, being already much occupied in the removal of Draco's belt.

It occurred to Draco, somewhere deep in the back of his brain, that he should (perhaps) care slightly more about the fact that Potter had now divested him of robes, shirt, and belt. Were his trousers to follow? Was it important or alarming or even arousing if they should?

Harry's mouth was currently traversing the path between Draco's pulse point and collarbone, nipping gently at the skin before soothing the reddening flesh gently with his tongue. He was being thoroughly seduced or sedated or something of that nature by the sheer proximity of Harry bloody Potter.

He knew he should be bothered, he even knew he should be bothered that he wasn't bothered. He growled slightly, thrusting with his chin to draw Potter's face upwards so they could reseal their mouths over each other's. He was bothered all right. Only not in the way he should be.

White fingers knotted themselves into thick black hair, Draco scrabbling with his other hand to loosen the Gryffindors own shirt, eager to feel the press of skin on skin, twisting their bodies so that the brunet now sprawled back against the trunk, still eagerly gasping and muttering soft praise against the blond's mouth throughout.

Take me, Draco had said. Take anything you want.

Now, spine arching as he crushed his chest forward against Harry's partially revealed torso, Draco _ached_ for Harry to take him at his word. Curiously callused hands traversed Draco's upper body and Draco needed them everywhere and so much more and harder, needed it so badly that he could barely stand it.

"Potter," he moaned breathlessly as his own questing fingers were mirrored by a none too gentle tweak of his own near excruciatingly hardened nipples, dragging Harry forward a step in the hopes that he might take the hint and again crush Draco between that so needed heat and the rough wood trunk. "Potter…. Please?"

Harry took a moment between breaths to survey the prize awarded to him, lips full nearly to the point of pain and slick from hot, wet kisses, grey eyes near consumed by black. The blond wet his lips, almost preternaturally white body gleaming in the moonlight and a shudder passed through the Gryffindor at the frighteningly willing way he leant into his touch.

Take me, he'd said.

Harry suddenly realised that _upright_ didn't have half as much going for it as, say, laying twisted up in the other boy's long white limbs, long kisses and quick, whining breaths.

"Ok." Harry seized Draco round the waist once more, letting his knees simply collapse beneath him, toppling both his and Malfoy's weight rather haphazardly to the ground, the blond twisted atop him and gasping aloud at the increased contact between them.

Draco whimpered, the loss of pressure against him nearly obliterating the pleasure he felt at finding himself suddenly coiled around the strong thighs of the boy beneath him, Harry's hand now thrust into the silky white blond tresses to drag Malfoy's mouth back to his.

Harry sighed appreciatively into the Slytherin's kiss, breaking apart in slow steady explosions of enjoyment as the blond writhed and pressed himself down hard against the Gryffindor's aching body.

"Uhm," he murmured, tongues sweeping over each other's in slow, deliberate patterns, a seeming blueprint of sensual intent, "Now _this_ is what I wanted…"

Smugness seeped through every pore of Draco's being, nipping gently at Harry's tongue tip and smiling broadly against the moan it created.

"This?" he purred, forming an 'O' with his lips and dragging them back and forth over the length of tongue he had captured and revelling in the shudders that wracked the Gryffindor at his actions. Merlin, but it was addictive having this affect on Potter. "Or, perhaps… this?" He ground his hips down against that delightful ridge in the brunet's clearly untailored trousers, eyes crossing as the same bolt of pleasure that obviously shook Harry quickly traversed his own, shaking form.

"That's, uhh," Harry wet his lips and tried to concentrate on anything but the field of sparks obscuring his vision, "that's pretty close, I'd say…yeah."

"Close?" Draco's voice went up a few octaves in mock outrage, "Close, Potter, just isn't good enough." He spread his thighs, letting himself fully straddle the darker boy, biting his lip at the deliciously wrong feeling it gave him to be stretched, wide open, over Potter's lap.

"Mmmm," Harry moaned succinctly as Draco rocked once, testing his new perch.

"How's that, Harry? A little closer, would you say?"

A strong hand abruptly sunk itself into the silken strands at his nape, dragging Draco downward to have Harry growl against his captive's lips.

"Almost," his voice reverberated through to Draco's very core, tongues thrusting against each other in a kiss nearly vicious in its depth, Harry driving upwards and panting into the Slytherin's eager mouth, "Now it's perfect."

Draco, horrified though he was by the prospect, found himself in utter agreement with the Gryffindor.

Seconds passed, heavy with pleasure and somehow hours long, lips sliding over and over the other's until they were each giddy and breathless with need, hips rolling and pressing together in a rhythm too primal, too instinctive to feel unnatural.

Draco's hands, previously planted either side of the brunet's head to support him as they kissed, now clutched and clung at Harry's shoulders, while the Gryffindor's own seemed wonderfully free by comparison, to roam at will from nape to ass with nothing short of glorious abandon.

"Potter," Draco's tone shuddered and seemed to consist purely of vibrating need and… what was that? Terror?

"I, I know," Harry soothed, unsure of what precisely he meant, only knowing that he truly _did_ know, pinpricks of pleasure and sheer panic exploding all through his body as he wrapped his arms tighter about the blond and dragged him fully atop him, to crush their mouths back together, "I know."

Tremors racked each boy, from Malfoy's spread and aching thighs to Potter's spine each time he arched upwards into the blond's beautifully persistent downward grind.

Groaning, Harry brought his own knees up, tipping Draco more squarely into the cradle of his pelvis and planting his feet firmly before letting his fingers sink into the giving flesh of the blond's hindquarters. Draco gasped, the knowledge that the firm grip would be certain to leave pretty 'Potter' shaped bruises all over his ass the next day somehow more exciting than it ever should have been. Harry circled his hips, letting the hard ridge of his cock catch and scrape against the jut and swell of Draco's, each letting out less than manly whimpers at the sensation, the sound strangled halfway through as Harry swiftly repeated the action. Then again… and again…

He couldn't breathe. Every muscle in his body was screaming for oxygen, for respite, but mostly importantly release. Draco Malfoy was inches, barest millimetres, from losing his mind, from simply giving up the effort of breathing and anything else besides that frantic writhing and kissing that had him close, _so close_, to simply disintegrating in Potter's arms. Merlin help him, he'd never wanted anything more.

Then, with the sort of simple twist that usually found Granger brandishing a wand at them both, Draco got cramp. Not the niggling twist that causes a scowl and the belief it will go away with a few clenches and wiggles, but the full on seizing spasm that had him rearing up and away slightly, gasping in pain and actually dismounting the shocked Gryffindor.

From hip to mid-thigh Draco was locked and sore, unable to stay splayed in position and it was with no great small amount of frustration that he frantically massaged and slapped at his thigh, much to Harry's poorly timed amusement.

"Uhm… you ok there, Malfoy?"

Draco snarled, an entirely ineffective facial expression when lips are full and slick from snogging the life out of the person you're snarling at, quaking with thwarted desire.

"No, I'm not bloody ok! I've been sodding crippled!"

Harry's hand reached out to aid the careful rubbing at Draco's hip, which did _not_ help matters in Draco's opinion, yet he still simpered slightly, leaning into the touch. "Cramp, hmm?" the bizarrely addictive brunet purred inquiringly.

Draco nodded slowly, pouting as prettily as he could and hoping that Harry would take it as a sign to move that nice hand just a little higher. "Can't sit like I was before," his mouth formed a perfect moue of distress, silver eyes shining at the Gryffindor through a fan of lowered gilt lashes, "Hurts."

Harry's smile was slow and irritatingly irresistible as he slid a hand up to curve along the underside of Draco's jaw. "Got an idea," he said unhelpfully, before tumbling the Slytherin beneath him. "There we go," he purred, slipping a thigh between the blond's and joining him in a moan at the renewed friction. "Perfect again."

Draco would have raised his voice then, to correct the unendingly presumptuous git that no, actually, it had been much better when he was on top but his mouth was already thoroughly occupied and suddenly he didn't care which of them was on top just so long as Potter didn't stop.

It was getting steadily harder to breathe, their kisses now hopelessly sloppy as they panted, the lack of air only being slightly uncomfortable whereas to stop kissing would have not been just unthinkable, but excruciating.

Harry's hips pressed forwards and down each time Draco swivelled his hips up against him, each somehow keeping beat with the cadence of their tortured breath, hands clutching, groping, frantically, to the point where Draco intentionally scored his nails over the delicate skin of Harry's throat in the terror that the brunet might yet pull away.

Harry's skin was suddenly too tight and too hot and he wanted to bite his lip and shake off the discomfort, but then Draco was already biting his lips for him and that burn, the slow creeping fire from his gut, had somehow twisted tendrils throughout his body so that every inch that touched the Slytherin was blazing brighter and brighter and until he thought he must surely combust.

Draco's back was barely even connected to the ground beneath him anymore, he had arched so high just to keep himself in contact with the brunet and now, where he should have been ashamed to hear the whimpers escaping him as that sullen, sweet spiral of pleasure filtered its way through his bloodstream, it was all he could do to stay earthbound.

Harry needed to stop. It had to stop. He had to stop. This was too much, too much, too strange, too new, too everything and he had to stop before it was too perfect and he wouldn't be able to… couldn't stop.

His arms trembled, holding Malfoy to him, his thighs shaking with the effort of thrusting against the Slytherin's eager, warm body and god, but the taste of Draco's breath, his mouth…

He needed to stop. He needed to stop. He needed to stop…

"Oh, oh gods, Potter," the words burst past their kiss, almost an expression of pain as Draco stiffened against the sensations now savaging his body, "Gods, please…. Yes…"

What else could Harry do but follow him headlong into that same shuddering state that had Draco clinging and sobbing his name so prettily?

He couldn't stop.

TBC


End file.
